^{pHARMONlESl     " 
FOR  EARTHLY  LIVING 


MALCOLM  JAMES  M9LE0D 


LIBRARY  OF  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 

Prl 

PRESENTED  BY 

nceton  UniverBity  Libra.ry 

F 

BX    9178    .M28    H4    1902 
McLeod,    Malcolm   James,     186 
Heavenly   harmonies    for 
earthly    living 

1 

Heavenly  Harmonies 

FOR   EARTHLY  LIVING 


/ 


MALCOLM  JAMES  McLEOD 


WITH   PREFACE 
BY 

HON.  JOHN  V.  FARWELL 


> 


Fleming    H.    Revell     Company 
chicago,   new  york   &  toronto 

MCMI 


Copyright   1902,  by  Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 
Copyright   1 90 1,  by  Bible  Institute  Colportage  Ass'n 


PREFACE. 


Being  in  Pasadena,  California,  last  winter,  I  at- 
tended services  in  Rev.  Malcolm  James  McLeod's 
church,  and  was  so  impressed  with  his  sermons  that 
I  requested  copies  for  publication  in  order  that  they 
might  have  a  wider  circulation.  To  me  they  were 
spiritual  poetry  in  prose,  spiritual  music  in  harmony 
with  man's  inmost  needs  and  God's  provisions  therefor, 
spiritual  philosophy  and  experience  made  vocal  with 
Christ's  gospel  of  salvation. 

I  bespeak  for  Dr.  McLeod's  addresses  an  enlarged 
usefulness,  trusting  that,  as  they  proclaim  the  facts  of 
sin  and  salvation,  many  readers  may  be  transformed 
by  the  new  birth  and  energized  by  the  Holy  Ghost. 

John  V.  Farwell. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Harmony  of  the  Christian  Walk 9 

Harmony  with  the  Will  of  God 27 

Harmony  of  the  Work  with  the  Worker 43 

Harmony  with  Environment 54 

Harmony  through  Experience 71 

Harmony  with  the  Christ-life 83 

Harmony  with  the  Christ-pity 99 

Harmony  and  Communion  of  Public  Worship.  .  .  112 


CHAPTER  I. 

HARMONY    OF    THE    CHRISTIAN    WALK. 

"  Enoch  walked  with  God."     Gen.  5 :24. 

The  fifth  chapter  of  Genesis  is  a  monotonous  record 
of  names  and  numbers.  It  is  like  a  walk  in  a  forest 
of  long-lived,  leafless  oaks.  It  is,  moreover,  a  wilder- 
ness of  wickedness.  "The  whole  earth  was  corrupt 
and  filled  with  violence."  "It  repented  the  Lord 
that  He  had  made  man."  "Behold,  I  will  destroy 
him  with  a  flood  of  waters."  One  oak,  however,  in 
the  heart  of  the  wilderness  was  green,  like  the  tree 
planted  by  the  river  whose  leaf  withereth  not;  for 
"Enoch  walked  with  God." 

Climate  and  soil  do  not  account  for  everything. 
The  palm  tree  grows  on  the  edge  of  the  desert,  with 
leaf  clean  and  green.  It  sends  its  roots  down  through 
the  sand  till  it  reaches  moisture  in  the  depths.  The 
edelweiss,  with  dense  clusters,  flowers  on  the  summit 
of  the  Alps.  The  "traveler's  joy"  blooms  on  the 
highest  peak  of  Teneriffe.  The  samphire  grows  in 
clefts  of  the  rock  far  above  the  reach  of  the  sea.  In 
Wyomingthe  hot  spring  flows  hard  by  the  snow-drift. 
Sodom  had  its  Lot,  Egypt  its  Joseph,  Babylon  its 
Daniel.  Abijah  dwelt  in  the  house  of  Jeroboam;  and 
in  this  antediluvian  chapter  of  the  early  twilight, 
bracketed  with  men  whose  alone  biography  is  that 
they  lived  and  died,  is  found  a  man  who  walked  with 
God. 

(9) 


10  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Surely  the  record  is  remarkable.  What  reticence! 
What  omission!  He  lived  365  years,  and  yet  his  is  the 
briefest  biography  ever  penned.  Forster's  life  of 
Dickens  covers  three  volumes.  Washington  Irving' s 
life  by  his  nephew  enlarges  to  four  volumes.  Masson 
takes  six  folios  to  complete  the  tragedy  of  Milton's 
career.  Lord  Macaulay  fills  eight  duodecimos  on  six- 
teen years  of  England's  history.  It  takes  the  author 
thirty-two  volumes  to  tell  Napoleon's  story.  But 
here  a  simple  line  is  all.  The  description  is  pointed, 
yet  pregnant.  The  words  cut  through  the  outer  shell 
and  with  a  single  stroke  lay  bare  the  man.  One  could 
have  wished,  indeed,  that  the  full  record  of  his  life  had 
been  chronicled,  as  also  the  story  of  his  long-lived 
son,  Methuselah,  and  many  another  Bible  hero.  But 
differently  has  it  been  decreed.  Just  one  dip  of  the 
pen,  one  stroke  of  the  pencil,  must  suffice.  Oh,  for 
grace  so  to  live  that  when  God  calls  us  our  monument 
may  be  immortalized  with  the  noblest  epitaph  that 
was  ever  chiselled  into  marble — "  He  walked  with 
God"! 

A    man's    walk. 

Now  a  man's  walk  is  a  revelator  of  the  man.  Gait 
and  gesture  are  an  index  to  character.  You  can  form 
opinion,  approximately  true,  from  swing  and  carriage. 
The  movement  of  hand  and  head  and  foot  is  pregnant 
with  meaning. 

He  who  walks  erect  and  upright  evidences  emphasis, 
self-esteem.  The  gentle  noiseless  stepper  is  a  schemer. 
The  shambler  is  an  idler.  The  short,  quick,  American 
step  is  full  of  business  and  "go."  We  all  know  the 
broad,  swaggering  bully,  who  stands  with  feet  apart 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  ii 

under  lamp  post  and  street  corner.  One  walks  "tall," 
another  walks  "awry,"  a  third  has  a  slouching  gait,  a 
fourth  walks  "heel  and  toe."  We  have  students  of 
phrenology  and  palmistry ;  it  is  not  strange  that  there 
should  be  a  language  in  the  walk. 

Scripture  figures  it.  We  are  to  walk,  "  not  after  the 
flesh,  but  after  the  Spirit."  We  are  to  walk  "worthy 
of  the  vocation  wherewith  we  are  called."  We  are 
to  walk  "worthy  of  the  Lord  unto  all  pleasing."  We 
are  to  walk  "  circumspectly."  We  are  to  walk  "  in  the 
light. ' '  We  are  to  walk  ' '  by  faith. ' '  ' '  What  doth  the 
Lord  require  of  thee  but  to  do  justly,  and  love  mercy, 
and  walk  humbly  with  thy  God?" 

What,  then,  is  implied  in  walking  with  God? 
Three  things:     Harmony,  humility,  holiness. 

I.       HARMONY. 

Walking  with  God,  first  of  all,  implies  harmony  with 
Him. 

Now,  by  nature  we  are  not  on  good  terms  with  God. 
"The  carnal  man  is  enmity  against  God,"  and  there 
must  first  be  reconciliation. 

"How  can  two  walk  together,  except  they  be 
agreed?"  Amos  asked  that  question,  and,  Bible  or 
no  Bible,  there  is  remorseless  logic  in  that  little  word 
"can."  An  appeal  is  it  to  the  nature  of  things,  and 
"the  nature  of  things  is  the  law  of  God."  Harmony 
of  sound  is  music.  Harmony  of  word  to  thought  is 
poetry.  Harmony  of  color  is  beauty.  The  most 
beautiful  thing  in  nature  is  the  rainbow;  God  blends 
the  colors.  Harmony  of  cog  and  wheel  and  axle 
makes  the  perfect  mechanism.  Everything  is  in  its 
place.     Part  answers  part.     The  most  perfect  mech- 


12  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

anism  in  the  universe  is  the  universe  itself.  No  oiling 
does  it  need,  no  winding,  no  repair;  every  planet  in  its 
orbit ;  every  star  in  its  appointed  function.  There  the 
great  system  rolls  without  a  murmur — for  endless 
years  the  same.  All  thy  works  do  praise  thee,  O  Lord! 
Man  alone  mutinies  and  rebels. 

Life,  the  philosophers  are  telling  us,  is  correspond- 
ence with  environment.  In  disease  or  death  some- 
thing is  thrown  out  of  correspondence.  The  deaf  man 
is  thrown  out  of  correspondence  with  the  world  of 
sound ;  the  blind  man  with  the  world  of  beauty.  We 
are  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made.  Co-relation  of 
part  with  part  is  intimate,  and  any  interference  means 
friction.  The  perfect  workmanship  is  frictionless. 
Sin  is  disagreement,  fermentation,  rebellion,  aliena- 
tion, estrangement,  mutiny,  discord — the  one  all- 
pervading  discord  of  the  universe. 

The  great  dramatist  in  the  Tempest  makes  Ferdi- 
nand and  Miranda  to  fall  in  love  at  first  meeting.  A 
glance,  he  says,  and  they  "changed  eyes."  The  true 
Christian  is  he  who  has  changed  eyes  with  God.  He 
sees  as  God  sees.  "There  is  not  an  honest  student  of 
the  Bible  anywhere,"  says  Joseph  Cook,  "who  is  not 
willing  to  admit  that  salvation  is  harmony  with 
God" — loving  what  God  loves,  and  hating  what  God 
hates. 

Whereso'er  we  differ,  here  we  are  at  one.  Heaven 
is  not  possible  save  as  people  are  in  accord  with  the 
divine  law  and  the  divine  life.  That  is  what  Heaven 
means.  No  more  can  Heaven  be  got  out  of  a  dis- 
ordered character  than  can  music  be  evoked  from  a 
discordant  harp.  Culture  is  pained  by  contact  with 
coarseness.     The  eye  of  the  artist  is  troubled  with  a 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  13 

false  blending  of  color.  The  ear  of  the  musician  is 
tortured  with  dissonance.  Handel  tells  us  that  a  flat- 
ness felled  him  like  a  blow.  And  a  high,  lofty  moral 
nature  is  wounded  by  the  world's  sin  and  shame,  and 
shrinks  with  grief  at  its  beholding.  Love  and  hate 
can  never  be  at  peace.  Corruption  and  cleanliness 
must  necessarily  quarrel.  This  is  a  law  woven  into 
the  nature  of  things. 

By  no  ingenuity  could  John  Knox  and  Queen  Mary 
live  a  happy  life  together.  John  the  Baptist  could 
never  be  at  one  with  Herod ;  no  more  could  Paul  with 
King  Agrippa.  When  dynamite  and  fire  sleep  tran- 
quilly together,  when  lions  learn  to  lie  down  lovingly 
with  lambs,  when  leopards  kennel  peaceably  with  kids, 
then  perhaps  right  and  wrong  may  clasp  hand  friendly ; 
but  till  that  time  Christianity  means  war.  Until  a 
man  is  washed  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  from  the  guilt  of 
sin  and  the  power  of  sin  and  the  love  of  sin,  he  cannot 
be  at  peace  in  the  presence  of  infinite  holiness. 

Strike  a  note  on  the  piano,  and  the  corresponding 
string  of  the  violin  in  the  room  vibrates.  A  voice  has 
spoken,  and  kindred  voices  start  up  the  echo.  Like 
seeks  like.  Each  note  calls  up  its  brother  note. 
Strike  all  the  keys  together,  and  although  there  is 
discord  at  first,  yet  some  strong  notes  will  gather  up 
and  drown  the  others,  and  the  final  vibration  in  the 
distance  is  a  soft,  pleasing  tone.  This  it  is  that  makes 
it  so  hard  to  be  a  Christian.  The  more  refined  the 
music,  the  greater  the  risk  of  discord,  and  Christianity 
is  the  most  refined  music  that  was  ever  heard.  The 
higher  the  note,  the  easier  to  detect  a  flatness,  and  the 
life  of  God  in  Jesus  is  the  highest  note  that  was  ever 
compassed. 


14  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

HARMONY  THROUGH  OBEDIENCE. 

Let  US  remember  that  harmony  comes  through 
obedience. 

If  man  is  his  own  best  friend,  he  is  also  his  own  worst 
enemy.  We  pull  counter  to  the  current  of  our  being. 
There  is  harmony  in  music  because  in  music  there  is 
no  self-will.  Music  is  built  on  law.  Man  did  not 
make  this  law;  he  has  simply  discovered  it.  If  he 
breaks  it  the  music  ceases.  Each  Haydn  and  Handel 
is  as  much  bound  by  it  as  each  amateur. 

The  same  is  true  of  man's  relation  to  his  every  art. 
Find  out  its  principles,  and  all  the  genius  of  that  art 
is  yours.  But  disobey  its  principles ;  "  try  to  excel  in 
any  other  way  than  by  conformity  to  its  nature,  and 
all  that  art  contends  against  you,  and  balks  you  at 
every  step."  I  cannot  change  ocean  current  or  tide, 
but  I  can  build  my  ship  and  stretch  my  sail,  and  by 
adapting  me  to  wind  and  wave  I  can  gain  any  Liver- 
pool or  Queenstown.  I  cannot  conquer  lightning 
save  as  I  learn  the  law  of  lightning  and  submit. 
"Obedience  pulls  the  sting  out  of  the  lightning,  and 
makes  it  harmless."  Fire  is  a  bad  master;  it  is  a 
good  servant.  By  accepting  its  mastery  I  make  it 
my  slave. 

So  in  the  spiritual;  we  must  obey  God's  law.  Our 
will  must  be  confederate  with  His  will.  When  we 
put  ourselves  into  right  relations  with  divine  forces, 
then  will  they  do  our  bidding  and  be  our  friends. 
Obedience  to  the  law  of  steel  gives  the  engine  its 
strength.  Obedience  to  the  law  of  stone  gives  the 
sculptor  his  Apollo.  Obedience  to  the  law  of  wood 
gives  the  side-board  its  glossy  finish.  Obedience  to 
the  law  of  fire  gives  the  winter  home  its  comfort. 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  15 

Obedience  to  the  law  of  electricity  gives  the  telephone 
wire  its  cunning.  Obedience  to  the  law  of  govern- 
ment gives  the  citizen  liberty  and  happiness. 

The  old  Greeks  taught  their  children  how  to  sing, 
because  it  taught  them  how  to  be  obedient.  This  is 
a  difficult  universe  to  the  man  who  drives  dead  against 
it,  but  to  the  man  who  has  learned  the  secret  of  har- 
mony through  obedience  it  is  a  happy  place.  Dis- 
cord is  sickness;  harmony  is  health.  Discord  is  rest- 
lessness; harmony  is  peace.  Discord  is  sorrow;  har- 
mony is  joy.  Discord  is  death;  harmony  is  life. 
Discord  is  hell;  harmony  is  heaven.  He  who  is  in 
love  and  peace  with  his  neighbors,  filling  the  sphere 
where  God  has  placed  him,  hath  heaven  in  his  heart 
already.  Only  through  blue  in  the  eye,  the  scientist 
tells  us,  can  blue  out  of  the  eye  be  seen.  Only 
through  C  in  the  ear  can  C  out  of  the  ear  be  heard. 
Only  through  Heaven  down  here  can  Heaven  up  there 
be  interpreted.  "  The  natural  man  discemeth  not  the 
things  of  the  Spirit."  That  good  German,  Bengel, 
after  a  hard  day's  study,  retired  to  rest.  Some  one 
in  the  adjoining  room  heard  his  prayer — 

"Blessed  Lord,  we  are  on  the  same  good  old  terms 
to-night." 

Then  the  good  man  slept.  His  life  was  keyed  to 
the  divine  life.  His  heart  kept  time  to  the  pulse  of 
God.     He  had  peace. 

II.       HUMILITY. 

The  pulpit  is  fond  of  noting  how  the  word  humility 
has  changed  its  meaning.  In  olden  times  it  was  a 
word  of  slaves.  It  was  difficult  to  offer  a  man  a 
greater  insult  than  to  call  him  humble.     Humility 


i6  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

was  considered  a  loss  of  self-respect.  Christ  came. 
He  took  the  hateful  word  and  made  it  honorable. 
To-day  it  is  called  the  Christian's  loveliest  virtue,  and 
his  crowning  grace.  It  was  pride  that  changed  angels 
into  demons;  it  is  humility  that  changes  demons  into 
angels. 

"The  Christian,"  says  Guthrie,  "is  like  the  ripening 
corn;  the  riper  he  grows,  the  more  lowly  he  bends." 

What  is  humility?  It  literally  means  a  low  esti- 
mate of  self.  But,  then,  all  estimates  are  relative. 
The  value  of  anything  depends  on  the  standard  used. 
Everything  hinges  on  the  unit.  You  are  sailing  down 
the  river,  and  you  think  your  yacht  passing  swift 
until  you  meet  a  swifter.  So  long  as  a  dwarf  lives 
among  dwarfs  he  thinks  himself  a  giant.  Saul  was 
humbled  when  he  saw  Goliath.  The  Catskills  are 
huge  until  they  see  the  Alps — the  Alps  until  they  see 
the  Himalayahs.  The  atmosphere  is  clear  as  crystal 
till  the  room  is  darkened  and  a  ray  of  sunshine  steals 
through  the  crevice ;  then  millions  of  floating  particles 
can  be  detected.  A  poorly  clad  boy  in  the  presence 
of  one  neatly  dressed  is  conscious  of  his  clothing. 
The  little  stain  of  rust  is  very  prominent  on  a  polished 
razor-blade. 

Now,  a  man's  standing  according  to  the  Bible  is 
his  standing  in  God's  sight.  The  apostle  writes, 
"We  all  have  come  short  of  the  glory  of  God."  God 
in  the  world  must  be  the  standard  of  the  world. 
When  you  wish  to  learn  the  true  character  of  your 
life,  measure  it  by  the  laws  of  God.  They  that  know 
their  God  will  be  humble.  They  that  know  them- 
selves cannot  be  proud.  If  prosperity  raise  thee 
to  a  dizzy  height,  then,  lest  thy  head    be    turned, 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  17 

look  up.  Do  not  stoop  till  you  are  smaller  than 
yourself.  Stand  up  at  your  real  stature  by  the 
side  of  something  larger.  For  a  little  time  walk  with 
God.  Look  up  and  grasp  His  greatness;  then  look 
down  and  contemplate  thine  own  littleness;  thus  is 
pride  slain.  A  leading  feature  of  true  Christian  per- 
fection is  a  consciousness  of  imperfection. 

Do  not  try  to  be  humble.  Some  of  the  proudest 
people  are  those  who  are  trying  to  be  humble.  They 
are  proud  of  their  humility. 

"  The  devil  did  grin, 
For  his  darling  sin 
Is  pride  that  apes  humility." 

Pliny  said:  "It  is  as  hard  to  teach  pride  as  to  fill 
an  empty  bottle  corked."  Pride  is  the  attic  of  the 
house — the  highest  room  and  the  emptiest.  It  is  a 
magnet  pointing  selfward.  Proud  people  are  unim- 
aginative. They  are  self-centered.  They  are  so 
lifted  up  with  what  they  are  that  they  blind  them- 
selves to  what  they  might  be. 

The  certain  cure  is  a  vision  of  the  ideal:  for  the 
proud  man  is  looking  away  from  God.  He  has 
turned  his  back  on  the  fountain  of  light.  He  has 
set  himself  against  the  spirit  of  incarnate  Love,  who 
said:  ''Come  unto  Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are 
heavy  laden,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart." 
Thus  does  he  make  of  his  life  a  discord,  a  jar. 

Moreover,  pride  unfits  for  service.  We  cannot  do 
the  Master's  work  until  we  are  "clothed  with  humil- 
ity," and  have  the  Master's  spirit.  "I  beseech  you," 
wrote  St.  Paul,  "by  the  meekness  and  gentleness  of 
Christ."  "  In  lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other 
better  than  himself.". 


i8  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Mr.  Speer  tells  a  story  of  a  visit  to  a  college  in  the 
South.  It  was  a  poor  college,  but  one  that  sought 
to  do  the  will  of  God. 

"There  were  not  many  rooms  in  it,"  he  goes  on  to 
say,  "so  the  president  gave  me  his  room.  I  was 
awakened  very  early  in  the  morning  by  my  door 
opening.  I  did  not  want  to  appear  inquisitive,  so  I 
lay  quietly  and  said  nothing.  It  was  the  president.  I 
saw  him  take  my  boots,  carry  them  into  an  adjoining 
room,  kneel  down  on  the  floor  and  black  them.  That 
act  went  straight  to  my  heart." 

This  is  the  mind  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who 
"made  Himself  of  no  reputation,  but  took  upon  Him 
the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of 
men,  and  being  found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  He  humbled 
Himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross." 

Let  us  hasten  to  note  the  sad  reflection  that  there 
is  no  vanity  save  in  man.  The  wind  giVes  its  music 
without  boasting.  The  rainbow  unrolls  its  gorgeous 
tints  without  noise  or  flourish.  The  modest  violet 
fills  the  air  with  fragrant  breath,  its  own  little  cheek 
hidden  among  the  timothy.  Gravity  blows  no 
trumpet  on  the  corner  to  be  seen  of  men.  The  night- 
ingale pours  its  little  heart  out — herself  unseen  amid 
the  black  leaves  of  the  silent  night.  Man  alone  is 
pompous  and  elate.  The  infinitely  little  hath  a  pride 
infinitely  great. 

III.       HOLINESS. 

There  is  a  series  of  English  words  that  have  the 
same  root — health,  whole,  holy.  They  are  all 
branches  of  the  same  stem.     "They  that  are  whole 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  19 

need  not  a  physician,  but  they  that  are  sick." 
Why?  Because  sin  has  halved  us.  Christian  healthi- 
ness is  Christian  holiness.  Christian  holiness  is 
Christian  wholeness.  A  perfectly  healthy  life  is  a 
perfectly  holy  life  and  a  perfectly  whole  life.  Holiness 
is  that  state  of  the  soul  which  results  when  the  whole 
of  it  is  healthy.  This  means  strength,  robustness, 
virility,  all-roundedness,  perfect  development.  Holi- 
ness is  the  completeness  of  character. 

I  like  that  picture  of  Jesus  by  Holman  Hunt. 
There  He  stands,  not  the  weak,  womanly  divinity- 
student  figure  that  the  old  masters  paint;  but  a 
strong,  ruddy,  wholesome  lad,  in  bare  foot  and  with  a 
far-away  look  in  His  eye. 

Now,  God  gives  us  the  laws  of  spiritual  healthiness 
in  Scripture,  and  one  of  these  is  companionship.  *'  He 
that  walketh  with  the  wise  shall  be  wise,  but  the 
companion  of  fools  shall  be  destroyed." 

Lord  Bacon  says :  *'  No  man  doth  accompany  with 
others  but  he  leameth,  ere  he  is  aware,  some  gesture, 
voice,  or  fashion."  Shakspere  adds:  "It  is  certain 
that  wise  bearing  or  ignorant  carriage  is  caught  as  men 
take  disease ,  one  of  another. "  * '  Evil  communications 
corrupt  good  manners,"  writes  St.  Paul.  There  is  an 
old  Latin  proverb:  "If  you  live  with  those  who  are 
lame,  you  will  learn  to  limp."  He  that  comes  from 
the  stable  has  an  odor  of  the  horse.  He  that  works 
with  the  chimney  smells  of  its  smoke.  He  who  com- 
panions with  the  ugly  soon  undergoes  a  sinister  trans- 
formation. He  who  frequents  places  where  shame  holds 
carnival,  will  soon  bear  the  brand  of  vice.  A  man  is 
known  by  the  company  he  keeps.  If  that  with  which 
you  consort  is  below  you,  it  degrades;  if  above  it, 


20  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

uplifts.  In  electricity  there  are  what  are  called  induced 
currents.  Here  are  two  parallel  wires.  Pass  a  cur- 
rent through  the  first.  A  fainter  throb  will  thrill  the 
second.  That  is  how  they  telegraph  from  moving 
trains.  There  is  an  electric  contagion.  Iron  near  a 
magnet  is  magnetized.  There  is  a  valley  in  California 
where  nothing  is  grown  but  roses.  During  the  flower- 
ing season  it  is  a  wilderness  of  flowers.  It  scents  the 
atmosphere  for  miles.  So  saturated  is  the  air  with 
perfume  that  it  clings  to  the  clothing  for  days  and 
weeks. 

Saadi,  the  Persian  poet,  was  one  day  bathing.  A 
friend  put  into  his  hand  a  piece  of  scented  clay. 

"Art  thou  musk  or  ambergris?"  asked  the  poet. 

"I  was  just  a  piece  of  clay,"  it  answered,  "but 
being  in  the  company  of  a  rose-bush  all  summer,  the 
quality  of  my  sweet  companion  was  communicated  to 
me." 

Well  did  the  old  philosopher  say  that  each  growing 
child  should  have  every  morning  some  beautiful 
picture  to  refresh  the  eye,  some  immortal  music  to 
delight  the  ear,  and  some  perfect  poem  to  read  and 
tone  up  the  sense  of  beauty.  The  soul  living  amid 
such    loveliness   must    soon    grow    fair    and    lovely. 

Astronomers  are  said  to  be  men  of  tranquil  tem- 
perament. Constantly  dwelling  on  the  "expressive 
silence"  of  the  starry  depths,  their  souls  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  heavenly  quiet. 

This  is  the  old  mystery  of  environment.  Certain 
animals  take  on  the  color  of  their  habitat.  Witness 
the  sandy  hue  of  the  sole  and  flounder,  the  white  of 
the  polar  bear,  the  stripes  of  the  Bengal  tiger.  The 
chameleon  takes  its  tint  from  the  branch  to  which  it 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  21 

clings.  Wallace  mentions  the  case  of  a  parrot  which 
changes  its  color  from  green  to  red  when  fed  on  certain 
fishes. 

In  nature  environment  is  revolutionary.  Do  oranges 
grow  in  Florida?  Climate,  not  soil,  is  the  cause.  Is 
the  polar  bear  found  in  Greenland?  Climate,  not  seals 
or  fishes,  is  the  secret.  Is  a  man  a  companion  of 
books?  He  shows  it  in  his  face.  Is  he  a  worker  in 
coal?  His  body  tells  the  grimy  tale.  Does  he  linger 
long  'mid  honeysuckle  and  mignonette?  There's  a 
fragrance  from  his  dress.  Verily  the  body  is  the 
soul's  interpreter.  A  man's  embodiment  is  written' 
o'er  with  the  history  of  his  companionships. 

Nothing  writes  so  unmistakably  as  the  company 
we  keep.  It  was  said  of  Keats  that  "  his  face  was  like 
the  face  of  one  who  had  seen  a  vision."  So  absorbed 
was  he  in  the  beautiful,  so  fondly  did  he  love  that 
vision  splendid,  that  his  very  face  took  on  the  love- 
liness. Shakspere's  face,  we  are  told,  bore  the  marks 
of  meditation.  There  was  a  fulness  and  a  calmness 
that  came  from  brooding  o'er  the  deep  things  of  life. 
Charles  Dickens  pictures  a  monk  beginning  his  career 
as  a  beautiful  child.  But  he  fell  into  sin.  He  pon- 
dered over  vice  during  the  day.  He  played  with  little 
angel  demons  in  his  dreams  during  the  night.  For 
him  to  live  was  iniquity.  Soon  the  face  of  the  inno- 
cent youth  grew  fiend-like  and  depraved,  and  he 
ended  his  career  a  bruised,  broken-down,  blotched 
criminal.  By  the  which  Dickens  means  that  asso- 
ciating with  sin  will  put  a  twist  in  the  eye  and  a 
coarseness  in  the  countenance. 

When  Da  Vinci  painted  his  "Last  Supper,"  he  had 
the  faces  of  the  eleven  disciples  completed  before  he 


22  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

had  secured  a  model  for  the  portrait  of  either  Jesus  or 
Judas.  He  spent  many  months  in  unsuccessful  search. 
One  day,  at  a  service  in  the  great  Milan  cathedral,  he 
caught  the  eye  of  a  young  man  in  the  choir.  "  There's 
my  man,"  thought  Leonardo,  as  he  studied  the  strik- 
ing features. 

He  sought  him  out  and  secured  him  to  sit  for  the 
immortal  painting  to  represent  our  Saviour. 

Then  Judas  alone  was  left.  The  artist  was  many 
years  seeking  a  model  among  the  haunts  of  crime.  It 
was  in  Rome  it  happened.  There  he  met  his  Judas  in 
a  prison  cell,  and  had  him  sketched.  The  pulpit  has 
never  tired  telling  the  story  to  half-incredulous  wor- 
shippers of  Da  Vinci's  finding  out,  later,  that  these 
two  men  were  the  same;  and  the  world  will  never 
cease  to  wonder  how  a  face  that  was  taken  for  the 
calm,  strong  gentle  face  of  Jesus,  could  ever,  by  any 
mystery  of  iniquity,  have  its  lines  so  defaced  and  its 
beauty  so  disfigured  as  to  pose,  only  ten  years  after, 
as  a  prototype  of  Judas. 

Thus  in  many  ways  and  strange  the  face  tells  the 
story  of  the  man.  If  holiness  can  write  beauty  on  the 
facial  features,  sin  can  wash  said  beauty  speedily  away. 
For  sin,  like  love,  hath  power  to  convert.  We  all, 
with  open  face  beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  witchery  of 
sin,  are  soon  changed  into  the  same  image.  It  was  a 
patent  fact  in  the  olden  times  that  slave-owners,  by 
living  among  their  slaves,  learned  to  copy  their  vices. 
Notwithstanding  that  they  looked  down  upon  them, 
they  yet  became  passionate  and  cruel  like  the  poor 
wretches  whom  they  oppressed.  Contrariwise,  Plu- 
tarch tells  us  that  he  wrote  his  forty-six  "parallel 
lives"  of  great  and  good  men  in  order  to  fill  his  mind 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  23 

with  pictures  of  the  best  and  worthiest  characters. 
Their  virtues  served  him  as  a  "looking  glass  in  which 
he  might  see  how  to  order  and  adorn  his  own  life." 

Think  of  that  incident  related  by  Henry  Drum- 
mond.  A  woman,  whose  husband  was  dying,  came 
late  one  evening  and  requested  the  preacher-scientist 
to  come  to  her  home. 

"My  husband  is  deein',  sir.  He's  no  able  to  speak 
wi'  you,  and  he's  no  able  to  hear  you.  But  I  would 
like  him  to  hae  a  breath  o'  you  aboot  him  afore  he 
dees." 

Another  story  is  told  of  Frederick  W.  Robertson. 
Stopford  Brooke  was  writing  his  biography,  and  he 
went  down  to  Brighton  to  gather  information.  He 
visited  a  book-seller  who  had  known  Robertson. 

"Do  you  remember  anything  interesting  about 
Mr.  Robertson?"  he  asked. 

The  book-seller,  after  a  little,  took  him  into  the 
room,  and  pointing  to  the  great  preacher's  portrait  on 
the  wall,  he  said: 

"Whenever  I  am  tempted  to  do  anything  mean,  I 
just  run  in  here  and  look  at  that  picture,  and  the  pure 
face  recalls  me,  to  my  better  self." 

If  a  picture  of  the  great  preacher  had  such  power, 
what  must  the  real  man  have  been!  Surely  no  one 
could  have  lived  with  Robertson  without  growing  pure 
and  good.  What  must  it  have  been  to  have  lived 
with  Jesus?  It  is  said  of  Lord  Peterborough  that 
when  he  lodged  for  a  time  with  Fenelon,  he  exclaimed: 

"  If  I  stay  here  much  longer  I  shall  be  a  Christian  in 
spite  of  myself." 

Perhaps  the  most  pointed  story  of  all  is  told  of  John 
Wesley.     Two  rough  boys  filled  their  pockets  with 


24  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

stones,  and  stole  into  the  room  where  he  was  to  preach. 
When  they  looked  on  the  old  man's  face,  lighted  up 
with  such  a  glow  of  goodness,  one  of  the  lads  whis- 
pered : 

"He's  not  a  man.  Bill;  he's  not  a  man." 

When  the  service  was  over  and  Wesley  passed  out, 
the  same  lad  felt  the  sleeve  of  his  gown,  touched  the 
arm  and  whispered: 

"Bill,  he  is  a  man;  he  is  a  man." 

John  Wesley  felt  the  touch,  and  turned.  He  saw 
the  boy's  admiring  face,  so  early  soiled  with  sin.  He 
put  his  hand  on  his  head. 

"The  Lord  bless  thee,  my  lad." 

We  do  not  wonder  that  he  became  in  later  life  one 
of  his  band  of  preachers. 

Perhaps  from  such  stories  as  these  we  can  under- 
stand better  the  narrative  of  Moses  coming  down  from 
the  mountain  where  he  had  been  enjoying  the  com- 
panionship of  God.  His  face  shone  so  that  the  people 
were  afraid  to  look  thereon.  Or  that  other  narrative 
about  the  martyr  Stephen.  The  council  said  his  face 
was  as  though  it  had  been  the  face  of  an  angel. 

Sweeter  than  any  tint  of  painter,  fairer  than  any 
touch  of  sculptor,  is  the  beauty  with  which  holiness 
brightens  up  the  soul.  It  lights  up  the  sunken  eye  of 
sickness.  It  warms  the  cheek  of  depression  and  des- 
pair. The  old  classics  tell  us  that  a  woman  cannot 
choose  whether  or  not  she  shall  be  beautiful  at  twenty ; 
but  it  is  her  own  fault  if  she  is  not  beautiful  at  sixty, 
just  as  the  maple  gets  gorgeous  on  the  verge  of  winter. 
The  Lord  God  is  a  Sun,  and  we  will  shine,  too,  if  we 
get  into  the  stream  of  His  brightness.  The  vapor, 
apart  from  the  sun^  is  murky  and  black,  but  when  the 


CHRISTIAN  WALK.  25 

light  pierces  it  at  eventide,  it  enriches  it.  See  it 
drinking  in  the  beams  of  Hght!  It  blushes  into  gold, 
and  crimson,  and  cinnabar,  and  purple,  and  all  manner 
of  infinite  delights.  Human  life  is  nothing  till  you 
lift  it  into  the  sky.  Let  us  mount  nearer  Heaven. 
Let  us  draw  near  to  God,  and  our  soul  will  be  pure, 
our  path  luminous. 

Walking  with  God,  then,  implies  harmony,  humil- 
ity, and  holiness.  "Without  holiness,  no  man  shall 
see  the  Lord."  Christianity  is  the  religion  of  com- 
panionship. The  eagle  cannot  rise  with  one  wing; 
nor  can  man.  It  is  the  highest  type  of  friendship; 
nay,  it  is  the  perfecting  of  friendship.  If  we  company 
with  Jesus,  we  must  have  His  mind,  we  must  have  His 
lowly  spirit,  and  we  will  gradually  grow  into  His  like- 
ness. Justification  is  through  the  blood  of  Christ; 
sanctification  is  through  the  resurrection  life  of  Christ. 

We  are  shaped  into  the  likeness  of  what  we  live 
with.  We  are  shaped  into  the  likeness  of  what  we 
love.  When  Jesus  was  on  earth,  as  many  as  touched 
Him  were  made  whole.  We  all,  with  unveiled  face, 
beholding  as  in  a  glass  the  glory  of  the  Lord,  are 
changed  into  the  same  image,  even  as  from  the  Lord 
the  Spirit. 

People  speak  of  going  to  Heaven  as  if  it  were  a 
concert-room,  to  enter  which  a  ticket  only  is  required. 
Nothing  could  be  more  unscriptural.  Nothing  could 
be  more  unreasonable.  Heaven  is  not  a  place  to 
which  we  are  admitted,  but  a  place  into  which  we  are 
bom,  for  "  except  a  man  be  born  again,  he  cannot  see 
the  Kingdom  of  God.' '  It  is  a  little  short  of  foolish, 
the  way  some  talk  of  going  to  heaven  when  they  die. 
They  exclude  God  from  their  life  on  earth.     They  find 


26  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

no  joy  in  His  presence  here.  Heaven  would  be  a 
painful  imprisonment  to  them.  The  presence  of  Jesus 
on  earth  was  torture  to  the  demons.  "  Who  then  shall 
ascend  into  the  hill  of  the  Lord?  He  that  hath  clean 
hands  and  a  pure  heart."  And  our  hands  are  made 
clean  and  our  hearts  made  pure  as  we  trust  in  the 
cleansing  blood  of  Jesus. 

Enoch  went  to  Heaven  before  he  died;  so  must  we. 
As  the  old  theologians  used  to  say:  "We  must  have 
a  little  heaven  to  get  to  heaven  in."  Enoch  kept  step 
with  Deity  here  below;  so  must  we.  His  heart  was 
knit  to  God  by  trust — complete,  constant  trust.  For 
him  to  live  was  always  "Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee." 
That  is  what  made  of  his  life  an  epic  of  completeness. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HARMONY  WITH  THE  WILL  OF  GOD, 

"Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the 
ungodly,  nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the 
seat  of  the  scornful;  but  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord." 
Psalm  1:1. 

One  of  the  interesting  chapters  in  the  tragedy 
of  great  men  is  the  story  of  Samuel  Johnson.  His  life 
was  tuned  to  the  minor  key.  Ill  health  made  him 
morbid;  poverty  made  him  sour.  In  Westminster 
Abbey  he  sleeps  by  the  side  of  David  Garrick — 
laughter  and  tears  resting  together. 

Dr.  Johnson  wrote  a  famous  book  called  Rasselas. 
He  tells  us  he  wrote  it  in  the  evenings  of  a  week  to 
pay  the  expenses  of  his  mother's  funeral.  It  is  really 
a  search  for  the  secret  of  happiness. 

Rasselas,  the  son  of  the  mighty  emperor  of  Abyssyn- 
ia,  was  confined  in  a  private  palace  until  the  order  of 
succession  should  call  him  to  the  throne.  The  palace 
was  situated  in  a  rich  valley  surrounded  on  every  side 
by  mountains.  It  was  entered  by  a  canon  cut  under 
the  rock,  the  mouth  of  which  was  guarded  by  huge 
iron  gates  forged  by  the  giants  of  ancient  days.  In 
the  midst  of  the  valley  a  lake  lay,  peaceful,  stocked 
with  fish  of  every  species  and  fowl  of  every  feather, 
whom  nature  has  taught  "to  dip  the  wing.  "  On  the 
sides  of  the  mountain  were  trees  of  every  leaf.  On 
the  banks  of  the  lake  were  flowers  of  every  color.  No 
wind   but    wafted   spices;  no   garden   but   breathed 

(27) 


28  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

freshness;  no  day  but  dropped  fruits  rich  and  rare. 
Every  blessing  of  nature  was  there  collected;  every 
desire  gratified.  Nothing  that  art,  music,  novelty  or 
merriment  could  do ;  nothing  that  sense  could  wish,  or 
appetite  long  for,  was  wanting  to  make  life  lovely  in 
this  blissful  retreat. 

And  yet  Rasselas  knew  not  content  in  this  happy 
valley.  He  longed  for  freedojn  beyond  the  mount- 
ains. Alone  would  he  wander  in  solitary  walk, 
meditating  escape.  Week  after  week  would  he 
spend  exploring  the  canons  and  clambering  the  cliffs 
to  see  if  there  was  any  aperture.  Ofttimes  would  he 
look  at  the  massive  iron  gate,  guarded  by  sentinels 
who  never  slumbered. 

Three  years  did  he  spend  in  this  fruitless  search,  and 
then  communicated  his  plans  to  Imlac.  Imlac  was 
one  of  the  tutors  of  the  royal  family,  and,  walking  one 
day  through  the  groves  with  Rasselas,  he  was  telling 
him  the  story  of  his  life. 

"Tell  me, "  said  the  prince,  "  tell  me  truly,  art  thou 
content  in  this  valley,  or  dost  thou  wish  again  thy 
wandering  life  ? " 

"Great  prince,  "  said  Imlac,  "  I  will  speak  the  truth 
to  you.  I  know  not  one  of  your  teachers  who  does 
not  lament  the  hour  he  entered  this  abode.  " 

"  My  dear  Imlac, "  returned  the  prince,  "  I  will  open 
to  thee  my  heart.  I  have  long  meditated  escape. 
Teach  me  how  to  break  my  prison  bars.  Thou  shalt 
be  the  partner  of  my  flight.  Yon  gate  is  strong,  yon 
mountain  steep,  yon  sentinels  ever  sleepless.  " 

So  the  two  became  friends,  and  next  morning 
started  out  to  plan  their  escape.  For  days  they 
scaled  crag  and  steep,  returning  each  evening  to  the 


WILL  OF  GOD.  29 

palace.  Patience  at  last  rewarded  them  with  a 
fissure  in  the  rock.  They  pierced  the  cavity,  and 
issuing  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  they  beheld  the 
Nile — a  narrow  thread — meandering  beneath  them. 
So,  laden  with  jewels,  they  descended  into  the  plain, 
and  bade  goodbye  to  the  happy  valley,  as  they 
believed,  forever. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  follow  them  in  their  world- 
tour.  Human  life  they  studied  in  all  its  phases — 
greatness  and  lowliness,  wisdom  and  folly,  culture  and 
coarseness,  virtue  and  vice,  hardship  and  ease,  the 
task  and  the  tool,  the  cloister  and  the  market-place. 
They  went  to  the  temple  of  melody,  where  St.  Cecilia 
sang.  They  went  to  the  temple  of  laughter,  where 
Democritus  lived.  They  went  to  the  temple  of  jus- 
tice, where  Aristides  sat.  They  went  to  the  temple  of 
wisdom,  where  Solomon  dropped  his  mantle.  But 
happiness  was  not.  Rasselas  came  back  a  sadder  and 
a  wiser  man. 

The  search  for  the  blessed  secret  still  goes  on. 
Rasselas  was  not  the  first  explorer  in  a  region 
unknown;  he  will  not  be  the  last.  The  quest  for 
happiness  has  engaged  the  minds  of  earth's  wisest 
children  since  the  days  of  Plato  and  Epictetus.  For 
many  it  is  life's  summum  honum:  for  all  of  us  it  hath 
attractiveness  and  charm ;  for  the  Christian  it  is  life's 
last  reward.  And  our  text  lends  a  clew  to  the  intri- 
cate pursuit. 

"Oh  the  happiness  of  the  man  that  walketh  not  in 
the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,  nor  standeth  in  the  way  of 
sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful,  but 
whose  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord.  " 

Happiness  thus  consists  in  being  in  harmony  with 


30  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

the  law  of  God,  and  in  finding  in  that  law  our  medita- 
tion and  delight.  Let  each  soul  ask  itself,  "What  is 
the  Father's  will  for  me?"  then  be  obedient  to  the 
heavenly  vision ;  thus  will  the  blessed  prize  be  won. 

Perhaps  we  can  simplify  the  search  by  limiting  the 
field  of  exploration. 

Happiness  is  bounded  on  the  north  by  contentment  of  state, 
on  the  south  by  lowliness  of  mind, 
on  the  east  by  helpfulness  of  life, 
on  the  west  by  holiness  of  heart. 

I. CONTENTMENT. 

**  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  therein 
to  be  content."  (Phil.  4,  11.)  Contentment  is  har- 
mony with  the  Father's  will. 

One  of  Addison's  chapters  in  the  Spectator  is  a 
dream  which  he  entitles  the  ''Mountain  of  Miseries." 
The  great  essayist  dreamed  that  a  proclamation  had 
been  made  by  Jupiter  that  every  mortal  should  bring 
his  griefs  and  woes  on  a  certain  day,  and  throw  them 
together  in  a  heap,  in  a  certain  large  plain  that  had 
been  appointed  for  the  purpose.  So  taking  his  stand 
in  the  center,  he  watched  with  a  great  deal  of  interest 
the  whole  human  race  marching  up  in  line,  and  throw- 
ing down  their  several  loads,  which  in  time  grew  up 
into  a  prodigious  mountain  that  rose  above  the 
clouds. 

One  poor  old  haggard  wretch  carried  a  bundle 
under  her  cloak.  She  threw  it  down.  The  name  of  it 
was  poverty.  Another,  after  much  laboring,  dragged 
a  heavy  luggage  to  the  mass,  which  on  opening  was 
fotmd  to  be  his  wife.  Old  women  threw  down  their 
wrinkles,  and  many  negroes  their  tawny  skin.     There 


WILL  OF  GOD.  31 

were  red  noses,  grey  hairs,  thick  lips,  bald  heads  and 
rusty  teeth ;  in  fact  the  mountain  consisted  largely  of 
bodily  ailments.  Rapidly  the  great  massive  bulk 
grew  and  swelled  to  ponderous  dimensions,  but 
strange  to  say  there  was  not  a  vice,  or  a  crime,  or  a 
frailty,  or  a  passion,  or  a  folly,  or  a  sin.  It  was  a 
sorrow,  or  a  trouble,  or  an  affliction,  or  a  remorse,  or  a 
disappointment,  or  a  physical  distemper. 

Standing  and  regarding  very  attentively  this  con- 
fusion of  chaos  and  the  thronging,  surging  multitudes 
that  swarmed  around  the  mountain,  the  dream  was 
changed.  A  second  edict  proceeded  and  came  forth 
from  the  god  of  the  thunderbolt,  that  as  every  one  had 
to  have  some  burden  there  was  to  be  an  exchange,  and 
each  must  return  to  his  home  with  the  bundle  that  had 
been  assigned  to  him. 

And  now  the  hurry  and  nervousness  were  intense. 
Some  who  had  brought  sickness  went  away  with 
poverty.  Some  who  had  carried  hunger  to  the 
mountain  bore  away  thirst.  One  lady  exchanged  a 
birth-mark  for  a  bad  reputation.  A  venerable  hump- 
backed gentleman  exchanged  his  deformity  for  a 
rebellious  boy  that  had  been  thrown  into  the  heap  by 
an  angry  father.  A  certain  old  lady  who  came  with  a 
lock  of  grey  hair,  disappeared  with  the  asthma.  The 
whole  plain  was  filled  with  murmuring  and  discontent. 
Every  one  was  repining.  There  was  perfect  unan- 
imity in  one  thing,  that  the  new  affliction  was  worse 
than  the  old;  " and  I  learned  a  lesson,  "  says  the  great 
essayist,  "that  our  Heavenly  Father  knows  best,  and 
assigns  to  each  soul  the  sphere  for  which  it  is  best 
fitted,  and  the  burden  which  it  can  most  patiently 
bear." 


32  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Surely  that  old  story  of  the  aged  hermit  in  the 
desert  hath  valuable  lessons  for  us  on  the  blessedness 
of  trust,  and  the  committal  of  our  lives  to  Him  who 
knoweth  best.  He  planted  an  olive  by  his  hut,  and 
prayed  for  rain.  So  the  gentle  rain  came  down,  and 
gradually  grew  to  torrents.  Then  fancying  some  hot 
sun  would  hurry  the  water  down  into  the  roots  to  free 
the  salts  and  phosphates  and  gases,  and  force  them  up 
into  the  leaves  and  branches,  he  prayed  again,  and  the 
hot  sun  shot  forth  its  fiery  darts.  Next,  the  old 
hermit  imagined  a  cool  wave  might  put  snap  and 
hardihood  into  the  fibre.  So  he  prayed  a  third  time, 
when  next  morning  hoar  frost  settled  on  the  ground. 
Then  thinking  a  hot  wind,  to  swell  the  bud  and  push 
out  the  blossom,  might  be  beneficial,  he  prayed  once 
more ;  so  the  south  wind  blew.  In  a  few  days  the  olive 
tree  was  dead. 

The  story  goes  on  to  tell  how  some  few  weeks  later, 
visiting  a  brother  hermit  who  had  a  large,  beautiful 
olive  at  his  door,  he  asked : 

"Comrade,  how  came  yon  goodly  tree? " 

"  I  planted  it,  and  left  God  to  take  care  of  it,  "  came 
the  answer. 

"Ah,  I  planted  one,  too,  but  it  died.  " 

The  divine  Husbandman  knows  best  where  to  plant 
us,  beloved.  He  knows  best  how  to  care  for  us,  too. 
He  loves  us.  He  will  do  nothing  save  what  is  for  our 
good.  If  pnming  and  purging  will  make  us  more 
fruit-bearing,  that  is  why  He  uses  the  knife.  If 
dressing  and  grafting  will  improve  the  tone  of  otir 
lives,  let  us  not  rebel.  It  is  only  that  we  should  bring 
forth  more  fruit,  and  that  our  fruit  should  remain.     If 


WILL  OF  GOD.  33 

He   transplant   us   it   is   for   our   own   welfare.     He 
knows  where  we  will  thrive  best. 

Let  us  be  content  to  put  ourselves  entirely  in  our 
Father's  care.  Let  us  learn  the  secret  of  how  to  live 
in  harmony  with  His  will.  The  life  of  insurrection  is  a 
life  of  pain.  "  Every  time  the  sheep  bleats  it  loses  a 
mouthful,  and  every  time  we  grumble  we  lose  a  bless- 
ing." Only  by  living  the  life  of  trust  can  happiness 
be  found.  His  is  the  glad  heart  who  has  mastered 
that  contentment  of  state  in  which  the  apostle 
rejoiced.  To  long  for  the  forbidden  country  is  to 
invite  uneasiness  and  heart-ache.  For  happiness  is 
bounded  on  the  north  by  contentment. 

II. LOWLINESS  OF  MIND. 

On  the  south,  lowliness  of  mind.  Lowliness  is  the 
second  boundary  to  the  happy  life,  for  thus  only  can 
we  hope  to  company  with  Him  who  said,  "Come  unto 
Me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest.  Take  My  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of 
Me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart. " 

Paul  says,  "  Do  not  think  more  highly  of  yourself 
than  you  ought  to  think.  "  ''In  lowliness  of  mind  let 
each  esteem  others  better  than  themselves."  "Let 
this  mind  be  in  you  which  was  also  in  Christ  Jesus,  who 
*  *  *  humbled  Himself.  "  The  world  has  so  little 
understood  the  Christian  teaching  that  it  uses  the 
term  'poor-spirited'  as  a  mark  of  opprobrium.  The 
voice  of  the  world  is:  "  Happy  the  great,  the  rich,  the 
powerful,  the  well-to-do!  happy  the  life  that  lives  in 
luxury !  happy  earth's  dignitaries !  happy  those  unap- 
proachable ones  who  wield  the  rods  of  empire  and 
dictate  the  forms  and  etiquettes  of  life!  'I     But  such  is 


34  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

not  the  mind  of  the  Master.  His  teaching  is  that  the 
great  are  they  who  serve;  the  happy,  they  who 
minister. 

There  can  be  little  doubt  that  in  the  science  of  living 
with  men,  to  feel  one's  self-importance  is  to  invite 
disquiet  and  aching  of  heart.  For  nothing  causes 
such  rankling  pain  as  pride.  "  The  proud  man  poisons 
his  own  banquet,  and  then  eats  it. "  Augustus 
Caesar  bethought  himself  a  god,  but  how  jealous  and 
irritable  it  rendered  his  life!  The  ruling  passion  of 
Alexander  Pope  undoubtedly  was  vanity  and  love  of 
applause,  and  how  it  soured  and  embittered  his 
nature  we  all  know.  His  was  the  venom  of  wounded 
pride.     Macaulay  says  of  him : 

**  His  life  was  one  long  series  of  tricks.  He  was  all 
stiletto  and  mask.  To  cheat  and  malign  was  his 
natural  habit,  if  only  reputation  could  be  secured 
thereby,  for  admiration  and  applause  were  as  neces- 
sary to  him  as  the  air  he  breathed.  " 

How  pitifully  ludicrous  must  seem  to  the  all-seeing 
One  the  vauntings  of  our  poor  frail  human  nature! 
The  old  Roman  emperors  compelled  obsequious 
courtiers  to  shade  their  eyes  when  being  ushered 
into  their  presence,  thus  acknowledging  the  glare  and 
dazzle  of  their  glory.  By  some  strange  sophistry  we 
convince  ourselves  of  our  distinction,  that  we  forsooth 
are  intellectual  and  great  ancj  learned,  that  our  fellow- 
mortals  should  look  up  to  us  and  kneel  down  before 
us  and  accept  our  dictum  with  lowly  acquiescence. 
Surely  the  man  who  reasons  thus  is  certain  to  be 
unhappy,  because  he  is  certain  to  meet  with  contra- 
diction. The  man  who  feels  that  he  is  unappreciated 
and  wronged  and  slighted  unless  he  gets  everything 


WILL  OF  GOD. 


35 


he  wishes,  and  in  the  way  he  wishes,  is  certain  to 
suffer  mortification  and  bitterness  of  soul,  because  he 
cannot  possibly  get  everything  he  wishes  and  in  the 
way  he  wishes.  How  much  each  Dolly  Varden  suffers 
for  her  self-admiring  vanities!  Our  wonder  does  not 
greatly  stir  us  when  we  read  that  Beau  Brummel  was 
imprisoned  for  debt  and  thereafter  died  in  an  asylum 
of  remorse,  for  "pride  goeth  before  destruction,  and 
an  haughty  spirit  before  a  fall. "  Ofttimes  we  smile 
over  Mrs  Poyser's  cock,  who  fancied  the  sun  rose  every 
morning  to  hear  him  crow.  But  are  we  not  all  apt  to 
think  that  the  whole  world  of  men  and  things  was 
created  more  or  less  as  a  sort  of  pleasureable  adjunct 
to  our  convenience,  that  we  are  the  whole  triumph, 
that  our  fellow-mortals  were  made  to  tickle  our  vani- 
ties and  minister  to  our  wants,  that  even  the  stars 
were  set  up  there  in  their  lofty  silence  to  "make  the 
sky  look  interesting  for  us  at  night "  ?  "  Fill  a  person 
with  love  for  himself,  "  says  a  witty  Frenchman,  "and 
what  runs  over  will  be  your  share.  "  Aye,  truly  has  it 
been  said  that  love  is  the  driving  power  that  moves 
humanity,  and  'tis  flattery  that  oils  the  wheels. 

Surely  a  few  thoughts  should  serve  to  prick  the 
bubble  of  man's  complacency.  What  have  I  that  I 
have  not  received?  Where  did  I  get  it?  How  long 
may  I  hope  to  keep  it?  Let  us  but  know  ourselves, 
and  we  will  not  only  reverence  ourselves  but  also 
humble  ourselves.  Self-knowledge  is  the  parent  of 
self-abasement.  For  we  are  but  empty  vessels  until 
filled  with  divine  gifts,  and  even  the  vessel  is  His  free 
sovereign  bounty.  No  honest  reverent  soul  can  look 
back  over  the  story  of  his  life-history  without  feeling 
that  God  has  made  him  what  he  is.     Whenever  a 


36  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Christian  gathers  up  his  experience  into  one 
comprehensive  truth,  that  truth  has  always  been, 
"By  the  grace  of  God  I  am  what  I  am."  He  is  a 
poor  pitiable  creature  and  calling  for  our  forbearance, 
who  does  not  realize  that  the  best  things  in  him  are 
not  self- wrought,  but  God- wrought. 

Often  we  hear  of  self-made  men.  It  is  a  catchy 
phrase,  but  false.  No  self-made  men  are  there. 
That  man  who  studiously  stands  before  the  mirror 
and  makes  devotion,  is  neither  an  excellent  nor  an 
admirable  figure.  If  you  have  any  real  worth,  dear 
reader,  it  is  but  a  small  fraction  that  you  owe  yourself. 
The  true  architects  have  been  the  parents  who  gave 
you  birth,  the  teachers  who  taught  you,  the  atmos- 
phere that  nurtured  you,  and  the  good  kind  Father 
above  who  endowed  you  so  munificently  with  health 
and  reason  and  blessings  unnumbered.  By  the  grace 
of  God  you  have  what  you  have.  By  the  grace  of 
God  you  are  what  you  are. 

When  we  have  that  full  consciousness  deep-rooted 
in  our  hearts  of  our  entire  un worthiness,  of  how  much 
we  receive,  of  how  little  we  deserve,  then  are  we  seek- 
ing the  prize  of  happiness  in  its  native  home. 

III. HELPFULNESS. 

Bounded  on  the  east  by  helpfulness  of  life.  "  Bear 
ye  one  another's  burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of 
Christ."     (Gal.  6:2.) 

Lord  Byron  says:  "All  who  would  win  joy  must 
share  it;  happiness  was  born  a  twin."  This  is  the 
peculiar  significance  of  the  Christian  spirit.  Selfish- 
ness for  the  moment  is  lost  sight  of.  There  is  a  loving 
contrivance  on  the  part  of  every  one  to  provoke 


WILL  OF  GOD.  37 

somebody  else  into  being  glad.  The  word  miser  and 
the  word  miserable  have  the  same  root-meaning. 
The  miser  is  a  miserable  man.  Selfishness  is  swift 
poison  to  the  soul's  peace.  If  in  the  kingdom  of 
happiness  discontent  hath  slain  its  thousands,  and 
pride  its  tens  of  thousands,  surely  selfishness  can 
claim  its  hundreds  of  thousands. 

The  chemist  tells  us  that  the  carbon  and  the  dia- 
mond are  chemically  identical,  the  only  difference 
being  that  the  charcoal  drinks  in  every  particle  of  light 
that  falls  on  it,  and  remains  dead  black,  while  the 
diamond  reflects  all,  and  becomes  the  most  brilliant 
of  jewels.  So  there  are  grasping  lives  that  are  wholly 
self-centered,  but  tlie  beauty  of  the  life  of  Jesus  was 
its  considerateness,  its  helpfulness,  its  reflecting  glory. 

"  I  want  it  said  of  me,  "  said  Abraham  Lincoln,  "by 
those  who  know  me  best,  that  I  have  alv/ays  plucked  a 
thistle  and  planted  a  flower  wherever  a  flower  would 
grow."  A  friend  told  me  recently  that  he  was  once 
conducting  the  funeral  service  of  a  member  of  his 
church,  and  the  wife  of  the  departed  told  him  that  in 
thirty  years  of  married  life  she  did  not  remember  one 
morning  ever  having  passed  without  family  worship, 
and  that  in  all  these  years  she  never  heard  a  prayer 
but  had  this  sentence  in  it, 

"Lord,  help  us  to  make  somebody  happy  to-day." 

Strange  that  we  are  so  slow  in  mastering  this  lesson 
of  the  soul's  delight!  When  we  call  to  mind  that  it  is 
written  so  plainly  on  every  page  of  our  daily  living, 
how  is  it  that  we  so  easily  mistake  the  letters?  "  Glad- 
ness is  found  in  giving";  our  consciences  answer 
"yes."  "More  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive";  'tis 
the  Scriptural  and  eternal  law.     How  doth  it  happen, 


38  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

then,  that  we  persist  in  wresting  Scripture  and 
experience  to  our  own  discomfort?  If  happiness  is 
found  in  making  other  people  happy  on  the  25th  of 
December,  would  it  not  be  wise,  some  one  suggests,  to 
try  the  scheme  on  the  4th  of  July  ?  If  it  holds  true  on 
Sunday,  would  it  not  be  well  to  test  the  plan  on 
Monday  ? 

A  lady  paused  in  front  of  the  village  doctor's  house, 
and  inquired  of  the  child  playing  on  the  door  step  if 
his  father  was  at  home. 

"  No, "  said  the  lad,  "  he's  away. " 

"  Where  do  you  think  I  could  find  him? " 

"Well,"  returned  the  little  fellow,  innocently, 
"you've  got  to  look  for  some  place  where  people  are 
sick  or  hurt,  or  something  like  that;  papa's  always 
helping  somebody. " 

"When  the  sim  shines,  it  shines  everywhere,"  was 
Ruben's  motto,  and  as  we  look  into  the  great  world  of 
action  we  find  this  truth  radiating  everywhere. 
Xerxes  proposed  a  reward  to  the  inventor  of  a  new 
pleasure.  Every  morning  such  rewards  are  offered  in 
the  court  of  the  soul-kingdom,  and  each  humblest  life 
may  pluck  the  prize.  No  day  but  lends  its  many 
opportunities  for  doing  good.  For  neither  gold  nor 
grandeur  can  make  the  heart  glad;  that  is  alone  the 
fruitage  of  loving  service. 

"You  forgot  to  mention  where  heaven  is, "  said  the 
good  lady  to  her  pastor  after  a  sermon  on  the  better 
land. 

"On  yonder  hilltop  stands  a  cottage,  madam," 
replied  the  man  of  God;  "  a  widow  lives  there  in  want; 
she  has  no  bread,  no  fuel,  no  medicine,  and  her  child  is 
at  the  point  of  death.     If  you  will  carry  to  her  this 


WILL  OF  GOD.  39 

afternoon  some  little  cup  of  cold  water  in  the  name  of 
Him  who  went  about  doing  good,  you  will  find  the 
answer  to  your  inquiry.  " 

Many  will  recall  the  sweet  old  legend  of  St.  Chris- 
topher, who  lived  in  a  cave  hard  by  a  swift-flowing 
river,  and  whose  duty  was  to  take  upon  his  shoulders 
and  bear  across  whoever  wished  to  gain  the  opposite 
shore.  Many  a  tired  traveler  he  bore  across  the 
flood,  manfully  buffeting  the  billows. 

One  night,  weary  from  the  day's  toil,  he  fell  asleep. 
Without  was  cold  and  dark  and  stormy.  The  river's 
current  raged  fiercely.  Above  the  roar  of  the  torrent 
and  the  screech  of  the  winds  he  heard  a  cry,  so  spring- 
ing from  his  couch  he  plunged  into  the  wild  night,  and 
taking  his  pole  waded  across  the  swollen  rapids. 
Reaching  the  other  bank,  he  saw  a  child  of  wondrous 
beauty  pleading  to  be  carried  to  the  thither  side. 
Taking  him  on  his  shoulders,  he  started  across.  Just 
as  they  were  stepping  into  the  dangerous  channel  in 
the  centre  of  the  raging  flood,  the  child's  sweet  voice 
said,  "  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters  I  will  be 
with  thee";  and  then  only  did  the  old  hermit  know 
that  it  was  the  child  Jesus  whom  he  carried,  and  his 
arm  became  strong  and  his  heart  became  light  and 
glad.  Shall  we  not  learn  the  lesson  of  St.  Chris- 
topher? Every  deed  of  loving  service  to  earth's 
humblest  orphan  child  is  remembered  as  done  to  Him 
who  said,  "  He  shall  in  no  wise  lose  his  reward.  "  He 
looks  upon  it  as  a  personal  favor.  He  takes  it  as  to 
Himself,  for  "Inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  to  one  of  the 
least  of  these,  My  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  Me.  " 

IV. HOLINESS. 

Bounded  on  the  west  by  holiness  of  heart.    "  Happy 


40  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

the  man  that  findeth  wisdom.  "  (Prov.  3 :  13).  And 
the  wise  king  explains  what  he  means  by  wisdom  in 
another  chapter,  when  he  says:  " The  fear  of  the  Lord 
is  the  beginning  of  wisdom.  " 

There  is  no  happiness  worth  having  that  we  cannot 
pray  over,  that  we  cannot  take  to  the  Saviour,  and  upon 
which  we  cannot  ask  His  blessing.  True,  lasting 
happiness  is  found  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  nowhere 
else.  There  we  can  have  our  sins  forgiven  and  our 
souls  washed  in  the  all-atoning  blood.  There  we  can 
find  peace  of  conscience  and  assurance  of  final  victory, 
and  go  on  our  way  rejoicing.  The  footpath  to  happi- 
ness stretcheth  otit  in  the  same  direction  as  the  foot- 
path to  holiness,  and  each  persevering  pilgrim  finds 
that  the  journey  is  not  long  till  the  roads  meet  and 
blend  and  acquire  a  new  name — the  straight  and 
narrow  way,  which  is  the  footpath  to  heaven.  For 
the  happiness  of  each  tired  traveler  consists  in  finding 
out  the  way  in  which  God  is  going,  and  going  that 
way.  Godliness  gives  real  happiness;  nothing  else 
does.  "You  cannot  grow  the  lilies  of  the  kingdom  of 
God  unless  you  import  the  bulbs  from  heaven.  " 

Oh,  yoimg  men  of  pride  and  promise,  know  that 
happiness  is  only  found  in  living  the  Christian  life! 
Sin  gives  pleasure,  but  the  coin  is  counterfeit.  The 
pleasures  of  sin  are  for  a  season  only.  No  matter 
how  cool  and  inviting  seem  the  paths  of  unrighteous- 
ness, know  that  lions  lie  in  ambush,  and  ravenous 
beasts  prowl  about,  and  serpents  lurk  on  either  side, 
and  the  road  gets  gradually  closer  and  narrower  and 
more  contracted,  and  the  end  thereof  is  death!  Go 
east  or  go  west,  go  north  or  go  south,  nature  is  surely 
on  the  track  of  every  sin,  with  headlong  haste,  to  hurt 


WILL  OF  GOD.  41 

and  torment  and  to  destroy;  "for  at  the  last  sin 
biteth  like  a  serpent,  and  stingeth  like  an  adder." 
"  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of 
the  ungodly,  nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor 
sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful,  but  his  delight  is  in 
the  law  of  the  Lord.  "  Happiness,  thus,  is  a  spiritual 
attainment,  not  to  be  found  in  things.  'Twere  idle 
to  turn  to  gold  and  silver  for  gladness  of  heart. 

In  the  olden  times  there  is  a  story  of  a  great  king 
who  was  journeying  through  the  land,  and  heard  a 
shepherd  making  music  with  his  flute.  So  pleased 
was  he  that  he  invited  him  to  his  palace  to  charm 
away  the  fret  and  fever  of  life.  He  found  him  so  wise 
and  trustworthy  that  he  lifted  him  to  the  highest  seat 
in  the  cabinet  of  his  advisers.  But  soon  the  tongue  of 
envy  began  to  whisper  poisoned  words  in  the  king's 
ears,  that  the  shepherd  was  secretly  plotting  for  the 
throne.  It  was  noted  that  he  retired  each  day  to  his 
chamber  for  solitude  and  quiet.  The  king,  anxious 
to  discover  what  he  was  doing,  one  day  burst  open  the 
door,  and  there  sat  the  old  shepherd  clad  in  his 
ancient  garb,  with  the  old  flute  in  hand,  trying  to  call 
back  the  joys  of  his  early  pastoral  life.  Worldly 
comforts  had  increased,  fame  had  come  unasked,  ser- 
vants and  gold,  hardly  to  be  counted,  had  leaped  to 
his  slightest  nod,  but  they  had  only  brought  with 
them  care  and  heaviness  of  heart. 

There  is  a  little  tract  published  by  the  American 
Tract  Society,  entitled  "Uncle  Johnson."  Uncle 
Johnson  was  a  Virginia  negro,  who  lived  to  the  age  of 
120.  One  day  when  at  work  singing  in  his  garden, 
his  pastor  looked  over  the  fence  and  said: 

*'  Uncle  Eb,  you  seem  very  happy  to-day. " 


42  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

"Yes,  Massa,  Fse  jes  tinkin'.  " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about? " 

"  Oh,  Fse  jes  tinkin', "  said  the  old  darkey,  and  the 
tears  raced  down  the  channels  on  his  wrinkled  face. 

"Well,  what  can  it  be  you  are  thinking  about  that 
makes  you  so  happy,  Uncle  Eb? " 

"Oh,  I'se  jes  tinkin'  dat  if  de  crumbs  of  joy  dat  fall 
from  de  Massa's  table  in  dis  world  is  so  good,  what 
will  de  great  loaf  in  glory  be! " 

Scatter  flowers  as  you  go,  dear  reader;  you  have 
not  passed  this  way  heretofore;  you  will  never  pass 
this  way  again. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HARMONY  OF  THE  WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER. 

"Wherefore  by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them."    Matt.  7:20. 
"Believe  Me  for  the  works'  sake."     John  14:11. 

A  noted  scoffer  was  once  interrupted  in  his  noisy 
excitement  by  two  questions : 

1.  What  would  be  the  effect  upon  this  world  if 
everybody  was  a  consistent  Christian? 

2.  What  would  be  the  effect  upon  this  world  if 
everybody  was  a  consistent  infidel? 

The  argument  is  a  crushing  one,  for  of  a  truth 
Christianity  can  stand  such  a  test  with  a  glory  that 
would  astonish  even  the  most  ardent  enthusiasts. 
And  it  is  the  one  test,  let  it  be  admitted  with  sorrow, 
that  a  reviling  world  is  not  willing  to  have  it  judged 
by.  We  insist  on  reading  the  Master's  challenge: 
"  By  their  creeds  ye  shall  know  them,"  and:  "  Believe 
Me  for  the  doctrine's  sake."  Do  men  gather  grapes 
of  thorns?  Not  in  the  first  century,  said  the  Master. 
Or  figs  of  thistles?  Not  in  the  twentieth.  Thorns 
bruise.  Thistles  bleed.  All  the  thorn  trees  in  Los 
Angeles  County  never  produced  a  cluster  of  muscats. 
Jesus  is  simply  enforcing  the  fact  that  a  good  thing 
cannot  be  begotten  of  a  bad  thing.  If  one  finds  a 
large  custer  of  Malagas,  he  knows  it  was  not  plucked 
from  a  Canadian  thistle.  And  if  it  can  be  shown 
that  our  faith  yields  good  fruit  and  nothing  but  good 
fruit,  then  it  must  be  a  good  thing;  it  must  be  an 
evangel.     It  needs  must  be  a  message  of  glad  tidings 

(43) 


44  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

of  great  joy,  for  otherwise,  what  some  one  has  styled 
the  "greatest  good  that  ever  energized  humanity" 
has  proceeded  forth  and  come  from  an  evil — which 
were  a  self-contradiction. 

One  cannot  help  being  drawn  to  these  words  be- 
cause of  their  sweet  reasonableness.  There  is  a  ring 
about  them  that  is  refreshing.  It  cannot  easily  be 
imagined  why  any  fair  truth-seeker  should  be  unwill- 
ing to  have  any  debated  question  judged  by  this  test, 
for  it  doth  seem  to  be  a  test  workable  in  all  of  life's 
movements.  No  art,  no  law,  no  litany,  no  cult,  no 
implement,  that  cannot  afford  to  accept  this  standard 
and  abide  by  it,  because  of  its  final  and  essential 
fairness.  A  time  there  never  was  in  the  history  of 
the  world  when  such  religious  restlessness  bestirred 
men's  thoughts  as  is  seen  to-day;  never  a  time  when 
thinking  men  were  calling  so  loudly  for  religious  cer- 
tainty; never  a  time  when  simple  ex-cathedra  teach- 
ing carried  such  little  weight.  "  Defender  of  the 
Faith"  Henry  the  8th  called  himself.  "Defender  of 
the  Truth"  the  church  aspires  to  be.  And  the  one 
claim  were  vain  and  idle  as  the  other,  for  ours  is  a 
world  where  only  falsehood  needs  defense.  No  pro- 
tection does  truth  need;  no  buttressing.  Truth  can 
stand  alone.  Truth  rejoices  as  a  strong  man  to  run  a 
race.  Defending  the  truth  were  like  unto  some 
Launcelot  defending  his  sword.  The  best  defence 
that  can  be  made  of  any  truth  is  to  give  it  a  trial. 

Recently  a  Brooklyn  carpenter  invented  a  bullet- 
stopping  shield  consisting  of  three  plates  of  a  chemical 
combination  of  cotton,  wood  and  felt.  His  claims 
were  ridiculed  until  he  made  of  himself  a  target 


WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER.  45 

This  is  Christianity's  challenge  to  the  world.  "Try 
me,"  saith  the  Lord.     "Come  and  see." 

Take  an  illustration  from  astronomy.  Up  to  the 
seventeenth  century  of  our  era  the  path  of  the  planets 
was  believed  to  be  circular.  There  were  many  facts 
which  the  circular  theory  failed  to  solve,  and  these 
increased  until  astronomers  were  perplexed.  Then, 
in  1609,  Kepler  announced  his  elliptical  theory.  Pos- 
sibly no  discovery  ever  created  such  a  stir.  At  first 
it  was  ridiculed,  but  in  a  practical  manner  it  worked. 
Difficulties  it  cleared  away.  It  yielded  fruit,  and  now 
for  three  hundred  years — well  nigh — it  has  never  been 
doubted. 

The  rule  is  a  good  one.  The  proper  test  of  every- 
thing, and  the  only  fair  test,  is  the  fruit  test.  It  is  the 
test  of  reason,  law,  government,  tool,  art,  industry. 

Here  is  Christianity.  What  can  it  do  in  a  practical 
way  ?  What  kind  of  a  community  can  it  form  ?  What 
kind  of  a  government  can  it  formulate?  What  type 
of  a  man  can  it  remake?  This  is  the  vital  question. 
It  thunders  from  the  heights  above,  and  the  world  is 
bound  to  answer  it. 

I.       THE    REALM    OF    LEARNING. 

Let  us  look  at  the  influence  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the 
realm  of  learning.  Nothing  were  more  unfair  than 
to  speak  of  Christianity  as  hostile  to  the  most  daring 
thought.  It  lives  upon  thought,  thrives  by  it,  creates 
it.  If  Jesus  is  immortal  love.  He  is  immortal  wisdom, 
too,  for  "thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all 
thy  mind." 

The  story  is  told  that,  passing  the  college  buildings 


46  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

at  Cambridge  one  day,  a  cynic  accosted  a  gentleman 
coming  down  the  stone  steps. 

"And  what  do  you  manufacture  here?"  was  the 
question. 

"Power,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  who  chanced  to 
be  one  of  the  professors. 

"Oh,  indeed!     What  kind  of  power?" 

"Come  along  with  me,  sir." 

He  took  him  into  a  room.  The  wall  was  covered 
with  pictures. 

"These  are  some  of  our  boys,"  said  the  professor, 
sweeping  his  arm. 

The  cynic  looked  up.  There  was  Edmund  Spenser, 
John  Dryden,  John  Milton,  Thomas  Gray,  Coleridge, 
Lord  Byron,  William  Wordsworth,  Lord  Tennyson. 
They  passed  into  another  room,  and  there  were  some 
more:  Oliver  Cromwell,  William  Pitt,  Lord  Palmer- 
ston,  William  Wilberforce,  Lord  Macaulay,  William 
Thackeray,  Bulwer  Lytton,  Abraham  Cowley,  George 
John  Romanes. 

"  See  that  seat  there?  That  was  Sir  Isaac  Newton's 
seat;  the  one  behind  it,  Jeremy  Taylor's;  the  one  be- 
hind it.  Bishop  Lightfoot's." 

And  yet  it  was  Christ  who  made  Cambridge  a 
reality.  It  was  Christ  who  laid  the  basal  beams  of 
Oxford  and  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  and  Dublin  and 
Aberdeen.  It  has  been  claimed  that  there  are  not  six 
colleges  in  the  United  States  to-day  that  were  not 
established  as  Christian  colleges. 

"  I  think  the  time  is  coming,"  said  Bishop  Newman, 
"when  there  will  be  a  bronze  statue  in  all  our  college 
halls  erected  to  the  Son  of  Mary,  because  to  Him  the 
college  owes  its  life." 


WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER:  47 

To-day  Jesus  Christ  commands  the  world's  intellect. 
He  has  the  ear  of  university,  congress  and  court. 
There  is  no  speech  nor  language  where  His  voice  is  not 
heard.  His  teaching  is  text,  not  commentary. 
Shakspere  borrowed  much  of  his  raw  material  from 
Jesus.  Milton  was  suckled  at  the  breast  of  Bethle- 
hem. The  green  pastures  of  the  New  Testament  color 
Dante's  blood.  Tennyson's  "In  Memoriam"  is  an 
exposition  of  Christian  hope.  Wordsworth  takes  an 
"  excursion  "  into  the  fields  of  nature,  and  soaks  himself 
in  the  New  Testament  he  carries  along.  Similarly 
Coleridge  and  Browning;  their  brightness  is  derived 
from  the  great  Sun  that  prevented  them.  They  are 
interpreters,  not  revealers;  satellites,  not  suns.  The 
more  they  absorb  of  Him,  the  more  brilliant  their 
creations,  as  pearls  increase  in  value  by  exposure  to 
the  glare  of  day.  For  all  light  is  sunlight ;  all  learning 
is  Christian  learning.  There  is  no  Alpine  edelweiss, 
blooming  on  summit  cold  and  lonely,  that  is  not  the 
child  of  the  sun.  There  could  not  be  an  iceberg 
without  the  sun.  There  could  not  be  a  Voltaire 
without  a  Christ.  Take  from  Voltaire  everything 
built  upon  the  Christian  idea,  and  the  greater  part  of 
his  ninety-seven  volumes  in  Dalibon's  edition  would 
be  disembowelled.  Some  one  says  that  the  greatest 
star  is  the  one  at  the  little  end  of  the  telescope.  If 
that  be  so,  then  the  Son  of  Mary  must  be  the  child 
supreme  of  genius,  for  nearly  all  mind  stars  of  the 
first  magnitude  has  He  brought  into  vision.  This 
surely  must  be  the  puzzle-lock  of  history — how  a 
simple  carpenter  could  make  of  Himself  the  centre  of 
all  culture,  "focusing  on  Himself  the  light  of  the 
world's  learning." 


48  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

How  much  does  each  Rembrandt  owe  to  Jesus? 
Where  were  Murillo  without  his  Madonna?  If  the 
gallery  were  dismantled  of  what  Christ  inspired,  how 
bare  the  walls!  If  the  library  lost  what  He  evoked, 
how  scanty  the  shelves!  How  much  would  remain? 
Apart  from  ancient  classics,  would  anything  remain? 
In  the  early  centuries,  literature  was  a  tiny  thread 
trickling  from  Helicon,  and  visited  by  scholars  few 
and  favored.  Today  literature  is  a  full  river,  many 
branched,  flowing  almost  entirely  from  the  slopes  of 
Calvary. 

Frederick  Harrison  tells  us  there  are  now  two 
million  volumes  in  the  world's  libraries,  and  that 
every  ten  years  the  press  issues  enough  new  volumes 
to  make  a  pyramid  equal  to  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 
Mr.  Gladstone,  in  his  famous  tilt  with  the  great  agnos- 
tic, asked  him  publicly,  through  the  pages  of  the 
Fortnightly  Review,  if  at  least  one  million  of  these 
two  million  books  was  not  directly  traceable  to  the 
Christian  concept,  and  Mr.  Harrison  never  answered 
him.  Let  us,  then,  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter,  for  unless  this  be  vain  talk,  it  doth  seem 
incredible  that  any  fair  lover  of  truth  can  dispute  the 
influence  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  realm  of  intellect. 

II.       THE    SPHERE    OF    SOCIAL    BETTERMENT. 

Perhaps  no  literary  man  living  to-day  wields  a 
greater  influence  than  Count  Tolstoi.  For  thirty- 
five  years  of  his  life  he  was  a  nihilist,  that  is,  a  man 
who  believed  in  nothing,  a  man  whose  mission  was 
to  destroy.  Then  ten  years  ago  he  tells  us  his  life 
underwent  a  complete  transformation,  and  in  the 
preface  to    one  of    his  books  he  pens  these  words: 


WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER.  49 

"All  I  have  done,  all  I  am  doing,  and  all  I  hope  to  do 
are  owing  to  Jesus  Christ." 

Though  born  to  luxury,  with  untold  wealth  at  his 
command,  and  gifted  with  the  finest  literary  genius, 
this  lofty  nobleman  has  put  all  aside  and  lives  in  the 
simplicity  of  a  peasant,  working  by  the  side  of  his 
servants,  that  he  may  be  true  to  the  life  and  will  of 
Jesus. 

Take  another  illustration.  Who  in  this  past  cen- 
tury towers  head  and  shoulders  above  every  other 
heart  as  the  highest  representative  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
the  world's  social  betterment?  Most  fittingly  has  he 
been  called  "that  other  disciple  whom  Jesus  loved." 
Like  Tolstoi,  he  was  born  to  privilege  and  distinction ; 
a  money  king  by  legacy;  a  member  of  the  English 
parliament  from  boyhood.  Surely  we  are  not  over- 
reaching in  our  claim  that  no  man  in  the  past  century 
so  closely  fulfilled  the  will  of  Jesus.  It  were  a  sight 
for  angels  to  witness  to  see  this  child  of  leisure  and 
luxury,  when  parliament  closed  at  midnight,  turning 
his  back  on  homie  and  wending  his  way  to  Whitechapel 
in  search  of  life's  unfortunates.  He  loved  music  and 
the  library.  He  loved  the  company  of  scholars  and 
statesmen,  but  woe-alleviating  was  his  passion. 
Forty  industrial  schools  he  founded  for  the  poor,  and 
thirty-five  asylums  for  the  homeless.  All  of  his 
enormous  income  he  gave  away. 

The  day  he  died  he  arose  in  the  House  of  Lords, 
and  began  this  speech: 

"I  am  now  Hke  Paul  the  aged.  I  feel  the  years 
telling  on  me.  I  have  tried  to  do  the  will  of  Christ ; 
but  I  hate  to  leave  the  world  with  so  much  misery 
behind  me." 


so  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Then,  overtaxed,  he  was  compelled  to  sit  down. 
That  night  he  asked  his  daughter  to  read  to  him  the 
twenty-third  Psalm,  and  before  she  had  finished  he 
had  passed  down  to  the  dock  where  the  Pilot  was 
awaiting  him,  and  there  on  the  other  shore  Lord 
Shaftesbury  lives  immortal  forever. 

My  dear  hearers,  everything  in  this  world  that  is 
pure  and  good,  Jesus  Christ  is  at  the  root  of  it;  "for 
by  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them."  Do  we  purge 
and  purify  the  prison?  We  do  it  because  He  com- 
mands. Do  we  liberate  the  slave  and  preach  deliver- 
ance to  the  captive  ?  We  do  it  because  He  commands. 
Do  we  build  the  hospital  and  heal  the  bruised-bodied 
and  broken-hearted?  We  do  it  because  He  com- 
mands. Do  our  sons  go  forth  from  seats  of  learning, 
with  the  culture  of  the  schools  crowning  them,  and 
do  they  bury  themselves  in  the  center  of  the  world's 
sorrows?  They  do  it  because  He  commands.  "In- 
asmuch as  ye  do  it  to  one  of  the  least  of  these  My 
brethern,  ye  do  it  unto  Me." 

A  rose-bud  will  blossom  into  a  rose  more  rapidly  if 
it  is  cut  and  placed  in  water  than  if  left  on  the  bush, 
but  the  cut  rose  bears  no  seed.  When  its  leaves  fall, 
all  is  over.  Thus  is  it  with  the  philanthrophies  and 
charities  that  have  blossomed  on  the  stem  of  Christian 
truth.     Severed,  they  cannot  perpetuate  themselves. 

III. THE    INDIVIDUAL    AND    NATION. 

But  once  more  let  us  notice  the  fruit  that  Chris- 
tianity has  borne  in  the  life  of  the  individual  and  the 
nation. 

In  my  little  church  out  West  I  had  two  elders.  One 
was  an  old  officer  in  the  army.     All  his  life  he  had 


WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER.  51 

lived  among  the  Indians,  that  is,  the  part  of  his 
life  he  was  not  in  jail,  for  he  had  spent  six  years  of  it 
in  the  penitentiary.  He  was  what  you  would  call  by 
nature  a  rough,  shaggy,  iron  old  man.  Up  to  twenty- 
five  years  of  age  he  was  a  desperado  of  the  Jesse 
James  type,  rifling  stores,  robbing  banks,  blowing  up 
safes  and  holding  up  trains.  Rumor  had  it  that  he 
had  killed  more  than  one  man  in  his  day,  but  of  that 
he  was  always  silent. 

Then  he  met  the  power  of  God  and  was  converted, 
and  of  his  conversion  I  have  no  more  doubt  than  of 
the  apostle  Paul's.  He  married  late  in  life,  and  God 
had  blessed  him  with  a  boy.  And  how  he  loved  that 
boy !  How  he  dreaded  that  some  day  he  might  follow 
in  his  father's  footsteps !  To  see  that  big  great  brawny 
soldier,  with  an  arm  of  steel  and  hand  like  an 
anvil,  to  see  him  go  home  and  play  the  baby,  was 
something  like  the  magwey  tree  of  Mexico  which 
shoots  up  its  tall,  homely,  thorny  trunk  like  a  tele- 
graph pole,  then  crowns  itself  with  a  perfect  wreath  of 
flowers.  There  is  in  geology  a  stone  called  the  geode, 
a  coarse  bit  of  rock  to  look  at,  but  split  it  open,  and 
lo!  a  marvel.  There  flash  before  you  grottos  and 
crystals  and  wreaths  and  plumes  and  exquisite  beauty. 
He  was  a  human  geode.  To  hear  that  old  man  talk 
in  prayer  meeting!     Ah,  he  had  been  through  the  fire. 

"Just  to  think  that  God  has  saved  a  wretch  like 
me,"  he  would  say. 

Then  to  hear  him  pray!  The  penitence,  the  peace, 
the  gratitude.  The  softness  of  childhood,  the  fresh- 
ness of  spring,  were  in  his  soul.  I  heard  him  pray  one 
hundred  times  possibly,  and  never  a  prayer  but  had 
this  sentence: 


52  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

"How  shall  I  ever  thank  Thee,  Lord,  for  rescuing 
a  poor  wretch  like  me!" 

Dr.  Dixon  tells  the  story  of  a  poor  little  African  boy 
who  was  sold  into  slavery  years  ago.  He  was  carried 
to  the  coast,  and  after  a  varied  experience  found 
himself  at  work  in  a  store  at  Lagos.  He  was  thence 
shipped  to  America  with  other,  slaves.  The  vessel 
was  captured  by  an  English  cruiser,  and  carried  its 
human  cargo  to  Sierra  Leone,  where  they  were  set  free. 

The  boy  received  an  education  in  a  mission  school. 
He  was  baptized  in  1825  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and 
returned  as  a  student  and  became  a  teacher  in  the 
Fourah  Bay  College.  He  was  consecrated  the  first 
bishop  of  the  Niger  in  Canterbury  Cathedral.  The 
University  at  the  same  time  made  him  a  doctor  of 
divinity.  He  died  in  Lagos,  December,  1891,  a  re- 
spected, scholarly  man  of  God. 

In  his  diary  he  describes  a  meeting  with  his  savage 
mother,  after  being  made  bishop.  He  accidentally 
met  her  in  the  market  place  one  day  after  a  separation 
of  twenty-five  years.     He  says: 

"When  she  saw  me,  she  trembled.  We  looked  at 
each  other  in  silence.  Big  tears  ran  down  her  savage 
face.     She  called  me  by  my  name,  and  kissed  me." 

Oh,  the  perpetual  miracle  of  humanity!  From  a 
poor,  ignorant  savage  heathen  woman  sprang  the 
bishop  of  the  Niger.  That  noble  man  of  God  spring- 
ing from  such  an  environment!  "Believe  me  for 
Bishop  Yulang's  sake.  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them." 

Oh,  it  is  a  magnificent  thing  today  to  be  a  Christian. 
It  is  to  belong  to  that  great  army  that  is  enriching 
knowledge,  abolishing  slavery,  ameliorating  war,  un- 


WORK  WITH  THE  WORKER.  53 

shackling  fetters,  elevating  man.  A  diamond  in  the 
dark  is  dark.  It  is  not  fair  to  the  diamond  to  judge 
it  in  the  dark.  A  diamond  has  a  right  to  be  judged 
in  the  light.  A  picture  has  a  right  to  be  judged  in 
the  best  light.  Let  us  give  Christianity  at  least  the 
benefit  of  daylight.  Why  will  men  sweep  all  the  dust 
into  the  air  and  then  say  there  is  no  dust  ?  Confucius 
has  had  China  in  his  grip  for  2,400  years,  and  there 
is  China  today.  Behold  her!  Behold  her!  The 
works  of  Christ  are  still  wrought.  His  miracles  are 
still  here.  Believe  me  for  Formosa's  sake.  Believe 
me  for  Uganda's  sake.  For  unbelief  is  ice.  Unbelief 
is  frost.  Unbelief  is  superstition.  Unbelief  lives  in 
the  fog,  in  the  chill.  Christianity  is  literature,  poetry, 
science,  art,  music,  jurisprudence,  inventiveness,  faith, 
hope,  love,  heaven,  home,  Christ. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HARMONY  WITH  ENVIRONMENT. 

"Let  the  sighing  of  the  prisoner  come  before  thee."  Psalm 79:11. 
"  Turn  ye  to  the  stronghold,  ye  prisoners  of  hope."  Zechariah  9 :12. 

Rev.  Dr.  Henry  M.  Field  has  an  interesting  chapter 
in  one  of  his  books  on  his  visit  to  Tangiers.  Tangiers 
is  a  little  town  on  the  northern  coast  of  Africa,  famous 
for  its  prison,  which  has  been  called  the  "African 
chamber  of  horrors. "  It  is  quite  a  considerable 
building.  The  governor  lives  in  one  end,  the  pris- 
oners in  the  other.  The  prison  building  itself  consists 
of  two  rooms,  one  for  the  city  and  one  for  the  country. 
Here  the  poor  creatures  are  huddled  together  like 
cattle,  some  afHicted  with  leprosy,  some  with  insanity, 
every  known  incurable  disease  being  represented; 
while  the  desperadoes  are  hand-cuffed  and  chained 
around  the  ankles  to  the  walls.  None  are  compelled 
to  work.  In  our  penitentiaries  we  make  the  inmates 
work,  but  there  they  starve  them;  for  that  is  their 
punishment — starvation  slow  but  certain. 

Sabbath  morning  came,  and  Dr.  Field  went  to  the 
governor  and  asked  permission  to  give  the  poor 
wretches  something  to  eat.  The  governor  consenting, 
he  sent  a  man  to  the  market  to  purchase  a  wagon-load 
of  bread.  The  loaves  were  carried  out  and  laid  on  the 
floor  outside  the  iron  grating;  then  going  round  they 
distributed  one  loaf  to  each  through  the  iron  bars. 

What  a  spectacle  it  must  have  been!  "They 
snatched  their  share  like  greedy  wolves,"  says  Dr. 

(54) 


ENVIRONMENT.  55 

Field.  One  poor  leper  took  a  huge  bite  out  of  his; 
thrust  the  remainder  under  his  rags,  and  pressed  it  to 
his  bosom.  More  like  unto  dumb,  driven  cattle  they 
seemed  than  human  beings  made  in  our  heavenly 
Father's  image.  Not  one  of  them  spoke,  not  one 
thanked  him,  not  one  even  smiled. 

When  I  read  that  story  as  only  Dr.  Field  can  tell  it,  I 
felt  my  very  flesh  creep;  and  when  he  gave  it  a 
religious  turn  and  spoke  of  the  millions  of  spiritual 
prisoners  in  the  world  to-day,  who  are  living  without 
hope,  and  without  God — starving  for  the  Bread  of 
heaven  and  the  loaf  of  life  and  love,  chained  to  the 
walls  of  superstition  and  darkness — I  thought  I  never 
heard  or  read  a  stronger  plea.  I  thought  a  stronger 
plea  could  not  be  made  for  the  great  enduring  problem 
of  the  heathen  and  unbelieving  world. 

Life  is  filled  with  prisoners,  prisoners  of  hope,  some 
of  them;  prisoners  of  despair,  some;  prisoners  of  the 
body;  prisoners  of  the  soul.  If  liberty  is  harmony 
with  one's  environment,  slavery  is  rebellion  against 
such  environment;  and  many  are  the  souls  in  bond- 
age. Hegel  declared  that  the  great  fact  of  history  is 
the  struggle  for  freedom.  "When  I  am  dead,"  said 
one  of  the  greatest  of  modern  poets,  "lay  a  sword  on 
my  coffin,  for  I  was  a  soldier  in  the  war  for  the  libera- 
tion of  humanity. " 

We  are  all  locked  up,  more  or  less,  within  walls  of 
limitation  and  restriction.  Dr.  Hillis  speaks  of  the 
prisoners  of  physical  misfortune,  the  prisoners  of 
misrepresentation  and  abuse,  and  the  prisoners  of 
unfilled  ambitions;  and  doubtless  these  are  a  great 
army. 


56  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

PHYSICAL  MISFORTUNE. 

Here  are  Robert  Hall,  and  Richard  Baxter,  and 
Douglass  Jerrold.  Witness  Florence  Nightingale  shut 
up  in  a  sick  room  the  greater  part  of  her  life;  truly 
that  room  became  her  prison,  and  she  a  caged  eagle. 
Witness  Edward  Pay  son,  William  Wilberforce,  and 
Robert  Murray  McCheyne,  nicknamed  "the  skele- 
ton," who  put  the  trumpet  of  the  gospel  to  his  con- 
sumptive lips  for  eight  brief  years,  and  fell  on  death 
at  twenty-nine.  Here  is  Alexander  H.  Stevens,  who 
knew  not  a  well  day  for  over  fifty  years,  weighing 
only  eighty-five  pounds;  first  using  a  cane,  then  a 
crutch,  then  two  crutches,  then  an  invalid's  chair,  in 
which  he  was  wheeled  into  the  hall  of  congress,  and  the 
chamber  of  senate,  and  the  governor's  mansion. 
Verily,  his  body  was  a  cage  against  whose  fleshly  bars 
the  soul  was  ever  fretting  for  flight  and  freedom. 

At  twenty,  John  Keats  and  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
detected  a  line  of  bright  scarlet  in  their  phlegm,  and 
each  knew  that  the  die  had  been  cast.  Each  saw  the 
temple  of  fame  inviting  them  onward  and  upward,  and 
ventured  to  set  foot  therein,  but  ill-health  stood  lion- 
like in  the  path  and  disputed  every  inch  of  the  climb. 
One  night,  just  as  he  was  retiring,  Keats  coughed  upon 
the  pillow-slip,  and  said  to  his  friend: 

'*  Brown,  bring  me  the  candle  and  let  me  see  this. " 

After  regarding  it  steadfastly  he  fell  back  calmly, 
saying : 

"I  know  the  color;  it  is  arterial;  that  is  my  death- 
warrant." 

He  survived  twelve  months,  but  it  was  a  life  in 
death.  Surely  no  youth  can  read  the  story  of  how 
these  knights  of  the  new  chivalry  fought  hemorrhage 


ENVIRONMENT.  57 

and  pulmonary  attack  and  poverty,  and  held  dissolu- 
tion at  bay,  without  a  tear  of  sympathy  stealing  into 
the  eye  and  a  note  of  gratitude  into  the  heart. 

For  ten  years  Stevenson  expected  to  die  at  any 
moment.  The  year  before  his  death  he  wrote  these 
words : 

"  For  fourteen  years  I  have  not  had  a  day's  real 
health;  I  have  wakened  sick,  and  gone  to  bed  weary; 
and  I  have  done  my  work  unflinchingly.  I  have 
written  in  bed  and  out  of  it,  written  in  hemorrhages, 
written  in  sickness,  written  torn  by  coughing,  written 
when  my  head  swam  for  weakness ;  and  for  so  long,  it 
seems  to  me  I  have  won  my  wager  and  recovered  my 
glove.  I  am  better  now,  have  been,  rightly  speaking, 
since  first  I  came  to  the  Pacific ;  and  still,  few  are  the 
days  when  I  am  not  in  some  physical  distress.  And 
the  battle  goes  on — ill  or  well  is  a  trifle ;  so  as  it  goes. 
I  was  made  for  a  contest,  and  the  Powers  have  so 
willed  that  my  battlefield  should  be  this  dingy, 
inglorious  one  of  the  bed  and  the  physic-bottle.  At 
least  I  have  not  failed,  but  I  would  have  preferred  a 
place  of  trumpetings  and  the  open  air  over  my  head.  " 

MISREPRESENTATION  AND  ABUSE. 

Others  there  are  who  are  prisoners  of  misrepresenta- 
tion and  abuse.  The  story  of  Joseph,  of  Daniel,  of 
Galileo,  of  John  Locke,  of  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  of 
George  Washington  and  Abraham  Lincoln,  are  ever- 
fresh  illustrations  of  the  ingratitude  and  injustice  of 
the  human  heart,  of  great  gifts  rejected  and  cast  aside, 
of  imselfish  service  disowned. 

Dante  was  banished  from  Florence  as  a  dangerous 
citizen,  but  that  same  city,  not  many  years  later, 


58  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

begged  for  his  ashes  and  the  honor  of  entombing  his 
remains.  **  Surely  no  great  man  ever  ate  his  bread 
wet  with  tears  of  greater  bitterness  than  did  the 
author  of  the  Divine  Comedy.  " 

Savonarola  is  strangled  and  burned  in  the  market- 
place to-day  at  the  instance  of  the  pope.  To-morrow, 
Michael  Angelo  is  instructed  to  paint  his  portrait  for 
the  walls  of  the  Vatican,  as  one  of  the  sainted  doctors 
of  the  church. 

Perhaps  man's  inhumanity  to  man  was  never  more 
strikingly  illustrated  than  in  the  story  of  Firdausi,  the 
great  epic  poet  of  Persia.  How  sore  that  life  must 
have  been  through  jealousy  and  treachery!  For 
thirty  years  he  sang  his  country's  praise  in  many  a 
noble  number,  for  the  which  he  received  in  his  white- 
haired  old  age,  at  the  hands  of  his  fellow-citizens, 
banishment  and  exile.  And  the  crowning  touch  of 
pathos  is  at  the  close,  when  one  hundred  thousand 
pieces  of  gold  were  brought  to  him  in  reparation  for 
the  wrong  that  had  been  done.  As  the  camels  bearing 
the  treasure  entered  one  of  the  gates  of  the  city, 
Firdausi's  dead  body  was  being  reverently  borne  by  a 
group  of  strangers  to  its  last  resting  place  through 
another. 

Jeremiah  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  Hebrew 
prophets.  He  predicted  the  downfall  of  the  theocracy 
and  advised  voluntary  submission  as  the  only  means 
of  escaping  complete  destruction;  for  which  he  was 
cast  into  a  dungeon.  After  being  set  free,  he  was 
forced  by  the  people  to  accompany  them  to  Egypt, 
although  he  had  advised  against  the  expedition,  as 
displeasing  to  God,  and  in  Egypt  they  stoned  him  to 
death.     It  is  interesting  to  read  how  after  death  he 


ENVIRONMENT.  59 

was  turned  into  a  hero,  how  his  words  were  studied 
and  memorized  by  his  fellow-countrymen  in  exile,  and 
how  he  came  to  be  regarded  as  the  prophet  who 
should  reappear  again. 

For  some  strange  reason  a  prophet  hath  no  honor  in 
his  own  country.  It  seems  as  if  great  hearts  must 
be  unappreciated  while  living,  else  have  their  great- 
ness first  recognized  in  some  foreign  land.  Nations 
seem  to  prefer  postponing  their  gratitude  to  earth's 
wisest  teachers,  keenest  seers,  and  sweetest  singers, 
till  the  hero  is  beyond  reach  of  sight  or  hearing,  till  the 
hand,  alas!  is  vanished,  and  the  voice  is  still.  The 
history  of  all  reform  seems  to  be  the  old  story  of  some 
leader  vilified  in  life,  deified  in  death.  Verily,  the 
prisoners  of  misrepresentation  and  abuse  are  a  great 
number. 

DISAPPOINTED  HOPES. 

A  great  multitude,  too,  are  the  prisoners  of  dis- 
appointed hopes. 

That  hymn  of  Mrs.  Steele's  was  born  out  of  pain. 
Such  perfect  lines  could  only  come  forth  from  the 
fiery  furnace.  The  authoress  met  with  an  accident  in 
childhood  which  made  of  her  a  life-long  invalid. 
Engaged  to  be  married  to  a  gentleman  whom  she 
dearly  loved,  and  awaiting  his  arrival  on  the  eve  of 
her  bridal  mom,  a  messenger  came  with  the  sad  news 
that  he  had  been  drowned.  Prostrated,  she  retired  to 
her  prison-chamber,  and  penned  the  lines: 

"  Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss 
Thy  sovereign  will  denies, 
Accepted  at  Thy  throne  of  grace 
Let  this  petition  rise: 


6o  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Give  me  a  calm,  a  thankful  heart 

From  every  murmur  free ; 
The  blessings  of  Thy  grace  impart, 

And  let  me  live  to  Thee. 

Let  the  sweet  hope  that  Thou  art  mine 

My  path  of  life  attend; 
Thy  presence  through  my  journey  sliine, 

And  bless  its  happy  end." 

Some  are  hedged  in  by  circumstances;  others  are 
grappling  with  their  evil  star;  while  many  lose  heart 
for  want  of  breathing  room.  How  pitiable  to  witness 
anything  over-large  for  its  place!  Goethe  says:  "If 
you  put  an  oak  tree  in  a  jardiniere,  either  the  jardi- 
niere will  break  or  the  oak  must  die."  In  his  dun- 
geon in  London  tower,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  could  pace 
but  twice  his  length,  and  thousands  there  are  to  whom 
their  environment  says :  ' '  You  shall  not  live  your  best ; 
you  have  no  room  to  swing  your  arms,  no  room  to 
swing  your  heart. "  Like  ships  are  they  aground  and 
helpless  for  lack  of  water  depth. 

One  of  Maupassant's  short  stories  is  called  "The 
Necklace. "  It  treats  of  a  young  wife  who  suffered 
keenly,  feeling  herself  born  for  luxury  and  high  life. 
The  poverty  of  her  home  hurt  her — the  worn-out 
chairs,  the  faded  curtains,  the  bare  walls.  When  she 
sat  down  with  her  husband  to  their  modest  fare,  she 
dreamed  of  silverware  and  tapestry,  delicious  dishes, 
the  pink  flesh  of  trout  and  wing  of  quail.  She  felt 
herself  a  caged  prisoner.  Alas,  how  many  such  there 
are  in  life — prisoners  of  unf^dfilled  ambitions. 

Here  is  an  old  college  friend.  Many  a  happy  hour 
we  spent  together.  We  graduated  together.  His  an 
intellect  as  keen  and  clear  and  bracing  as  a  frosty, 


ENVIRONMENT.  6i 

moonlight  sleigh-ride  in  a  northern  winter.  His,  too, 
a  tall,  stately  figure  with  the  face  of  an  Apollo — lofty 
in  thought,  noble  in  spirit,  spotless  in  character. 
Splendid  are  the  visions  of  which  he  dreams,  but  the 
seeds  of  death  are  in  his  lungs,  and  he  is  poor.  His 
truly  is  a  soul  in  fetters — "looking  before  and  after, 
and  pining  for  what  is  not.  " 

And  time  would  fail  to  tell  of  the  prisoners  of  pros- 
perity, for  they,  too,  are  a  great  multitude.  Strange 
that  prosperity  should  tend  so  to  incage  the  soul,  but 
the  facts  are  unmistakable.  Prosperity  is  a  test  that 
few  can  stand.  Some  men  cannot  succeed  because 
they  lack  capacity  for  leadership.  As  long  as  they 
are  fighting  in  the  ranks  they  do  unselfish,  heroic 
service;  but  placed  in  command  they  lose  brain- 
steadiness,  and  grow  dizzy.  Benedict  Arnold  was  for 
many  years  a  patriot  above  reproach.  No  better 
soldier  through  those  long  Ontario  marches  than  he. 
But  when  British  gold  glittered  before  his  eyes,  he  lost 
his  poise  and  fell.  Verily,  to  climb  high  up  the  ladder 
of  distinction  without  losing  balance,  that  is  the  task 
for  all  that  man  hath  of  strength  and  fortitude. 

Strange  that  prosperity  can  so  easily  belittle; 
strange  that  it  can  so  readily  enslave!  Some  things  in 
this  world  are  dangerous  to  possess,  because  of  their 
tendency  to  possess  us.  "  Many  a  man  going  up  the 
hill  of  prosperity  meets  his  soul  coming  down."  A 
few  there  are  who  have  sensed  the  danger  and  taken 
warning.  Witness  the  late  Samuel  Appleton.  He 
was  becoming  very  wealthy.  He  had  a  ship  at  sea, 
uninsured.  She  was  many  days  over-due,  and  he 
was  growing  anxious  and  worried.  One  night,  ner- 
vous and  sleepless,  he  arose,  saying  to  his  soul: 


62  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

"  Soul,  this  must  not  be.  " 

He  took  his  pen,  estimated  the  value  of  ship  and 
cargo,  wrote  out  a  check  for  the  amount  to  some 
benevolence — without  knowing  whether  or  not  it 
would  ever  arrive.     Thus  did  he  assert  his  freedom. 

Balzac  has  a  story  in  three  books,  called  the  "  Magic 
Skin. "  It  opens  with  a  young  Paris  student,  Raphael 
by  name,  entering  a  gambling  nest  of  human  vipers 
one  afternoon,  throwing  down  his  last  gold  napoleon 
with  a  chink,  and  losing;  then,  dazed,  walking  out  as 
in  a  vertigo,  thinking  only  of  the  five-franc  piece 
which  the  prefect  of  the  Seine  would  pay  to  the  boat- 
man as  the  price  of  his  body.  Passing  the  shop  of  an 
old,  fleshless  antiquary,  who  had  seen  the  storms  of 
1 02  winters,  he  turned  in  and  asked  permission  to 
look  over  the  curios ;  for  he  was  questioning  himself  if 
darkness  were  not  the  better  time  to  die,  which  were 
in  truth  an  effort  to  gain  courage.  There  were  porce- 
lain plates,  ivory  dishes,  mummies,  jewel  cases,  ara- 
besques, miniatures,  carved  shrines,  panoplies,  vases 
of  Egyptian  porphyry,  a  vast  bazaar  of  ancient  relics, 
and  an  ass'  skin,  very  much  like  that  of  a  fox,  on 
which  was  written  in  Arabic : 

"Dost  thou  desire  me?     Take  me. 
God  will  grant  thee  thy  wishes. 
But  at  every  wish  of  thine  I  shrink, 
And  with  me  thy  days." 

"Take  it,"  said  the  old  man;  "you  are  welcome; 
only  once  taken  you  can  never  get  rid  of  it.  Every 
wish  it  will  gain  for  thee,  but  with  the  fulfillment  of 
every  desire  it  will  shrink,  and  with  it  thy  days.  Any 
desire  thou  mayest  have,  but  at  the  cost  of  thy  life. " 

The  young  man  signed  the  compact,  seized  the 


ENVIRONMENT.  63 

leather,  rolled  it  into  the  pocket  of  his  coat  and 
rushed  out. 

His  first  thought  was  to  plunge  into  some  wild  orgy. 
So  to  the  banqueting  hall  he  turned,  where  the  wealth 
and  culture  of  Paris  made  midnight  tumultuous. 
The  tables  were  white  as  snow  new-fallen;  the  cut 
glass  shed  prismatic  colors  in  its  starry  reflection ;  the 
viands  served  upon  golden  dishes  sharpened  curiosity 
and  appetite;  claret,  burgundy  and  madeira  flowed  in 
regal  profusion.  By  the  time  the  last  course  was 
served,  all  the  guests  were  wallowing  in  the  delights  of 
that  limbo  "where  the  lamps  of  the  mind  go  out, 
where  the  fires  of  the  body  are  kindled,  where  the 
passions  are  delivered  over  unto  the  delicious  joys  of 
liberty."  The  ladies,  beautiful  and  bejeweled,  stag- 
gered from  the  table.  Passionate  eyes  glared  like  the 
beads  of  a  reptile. 

And  now  the  guests  were  gathered  in  the  parlors. 
Groups  were  formed.  Revelry  rose  like  the  pande- 
monium of  Milton.  The  air  grew  hotter  and  hotter 
with  wine  and  wassail,  till  soon  each  victim  fell  over  in 
sickening  self-helplessness.  Gradually  the  candela- 
bras  burned  low,  flickered  and  went  out.  Night  now 
wrapt  its  black  crape  around  the  hideous  spectacle. 
Silence  reigned — an  awful  silence.  At  noon  next  day 
the  guests  began  to  stir,  stiff  in  limb,  sore  in  body. 
The  women,  whose  elegantly  arranged  tresses  were 
dishevelled,  and  whose  dresses  were  disordered  by  the 
tossings  of  a  cramped  sleep,  presented  a  picture 
repulsive  to  the  freshness  of  dawn.  Sobered  eyes 
were  dulled  by  lassitude.  Each  haggard  face  read  the 
confusion.  Like  flowers  crushed  in  the  street  they 
seemed,  after  the  passing  of  the  tournament.     "It 


64  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

was  the  awakening  of  Vice,  when  excess  with  strong 
hand  has  squeezed  the  wine  from  the  grape  of  Hfe  and 
left  only  the  peeling  and  the  refuse. " 

Raphael  leaped  up,  as  if  startled  by  some  bullet- 
wound.  He  felt  for  the  magic  skin,  and  a  cold  chill 
crept  over  his  flesh  when  he  saw  that  it  had  shrivelled. 

The  next  book  is  called  "The  Woman  Without  a 
Heart."  Her  name  is  Fedora,  and  she  represents 
modern  society.  A  young  woman  of  twenty-two, 
beautiful,  fabulously  rich,  with  all  Paris  at  her  feet. 

Raphael  falls  in  love  with  Fedora.  To  win  her 
was  life's  one  ambition.  Her  heart  was  the  last 
ticket  in  his  fortune's  lottery.  Then  follow  the  ins  and 
outs  of  this  strange  love  episode — a  passage,  no  doubt, 
from  Balzac's  own  autobiography.  A  young  man 
was  he  of  marked  intellectual  gifts,  but  born  to  bit- 
terest poverty,  living  in  a  garret,  and  yet  seeking  to 
win  the  heart  of  a  woman  that  lived  for  glitter  and 
dazzle  and  bubble  and  affectation  and  parade  and 
pomp  and  show — a  woman  without  a  heart. 

Fedora  inoculated  Raphael  with  the  leprosy  of  her 
vanity.  Deeper  and  deeper  into  debt  he  fell;  deeper 
and  deeper  into  despair. 

"To  the  devil  with  death,"  he  exclaimed,  one  day, 
brandishing  the  magic  skin,  "I  choose  to  live,  to  be 
rich,  to  win  Fedora.  Never  will  she  be  won  till  I  am 
rich.  I  wish  for  200,000  francs  a  year,  must  have  it, 
200,000  a  year!    Then  shall  I  break  her  heart.  " 

One  night  at  a  feast  a  notary  entered. 

"  Is  there  one  Raphael  de  Valentine  here? "  he  asked. 

"  Your  pleasure,  Monsieur? " 

"  I  bring  you  six  million  francs,  sir  from  the  death  of 
yourimcle. " 


ENVIRONMENT.  65 

A  storm  of  cheers  from  his  boon  revelers  made  the 
dishes  rattle.  Raphael  took  out  the  magic  skin, 
spread  it  open  upon  the  table.  A  dreadful  pallor 
defined  every  muscle  in  his  haggard  face.  He  took  a 
pair  of  compasses  and  measured  it.  He  felt  the  steel 
of  a  knife  cutting  through  his  flesh  when  he  saw  that 
the  leather  was  smaller.  Three  times  he  looked  at 
the  talisman.  Three  times  he  flushed  and  paled. 
Was  it  not  the  image  of  his  being?  He  could  gratify 
any  sensual  enjoyment,  but  at  the  cost  of  his  life. 

In  the  last  book  Raphael  endeavors  to  destroy  the 
fatal  leather.  He  who  started  out  with  suicide  as  a 
goal  now  desires  life  with  an  intense  and  awful  long- 
ing. He  turns  to  life's  wise  teachers,  but  they  could 
not  fathom  it.  The  mechanic  strove  to  annihilate  it 
by  violence,  the  chemist  by  reagents.  Into  a  white- 
hot  furnace  they  thrust  it,  but  it  came  out  unsinged. 
They  subjected  it  to  the  full  force  of  a  voltaic  battery, 
but  without  avail.  He  knew,  for  had  not  the  old 
antiquary  told  him  that  whoso  signed  the  compact 
was  thereby  committed  to  the  end,  and  could  no 
more  repent  and  return  than  could  a  man  repent  and 
return  who  should  throw  himself  from  the  pinnacle  of 
some  Eiffel  tower. 

One  day  he  hurled  it  into  the  bottom  of  the  well, 
and  plunged  that  night  into  some  wild  orgy.  Next 
morning  the  gardener  brought  it  in,  to  show  it  to  his 
master. 

"  In  drawing  a  bucket  of  water,  monsieur,  I  brought 
up  this  strange  marine  plant,  and  although  it  lives  in 
the  water  it  is  as  dry  as  a  fungus." 

So  saying,  the  man  handed  Raphael  the  inexorable 
skin,  now  reduced  to  six  square  inches. 


66  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

"Great  God,"  he  cried,  measuring  it,  "I  have  but 
two  months  to  live.  All  the  delights  of  life  are  danc- 
ing like  beautiful  women  around  my  dying  bed.  If  I 
call  to  them  I  die,  for  every  wish  is  suicidal." 

And  now  Raphael  realizes  the  inevitable,  and  des- 
pairingly returns  homeward  to  face  death.  He  retires 
from  the  world,  closets  himself  in  seclusion,  and  strives 
to  live  a  vegetable  life — to  strip  his  soul  of  every  wish 
and  all  the  glories  of  desire.  But  a  long  career  of 
self-indulgence  has  weakened  his  will-power,  and  the 
gratification  of  his  lower  passions  masters  him.  Ex- 
cess has  enervated  and  unnerved  him.  He  is  a  pris- 
oner to  his  passions.  There  hangs  the  magic  talisman 
upon  the  wall,  fastened  to  a  white  cloth  on  which  its 
dreadful  outline  was  accurately  marked. 

Four  physicians  now  attended  him.  and  soothed  his 
wasted  body  with  opiates.  That  dry,  sepulchral 
cough  bespoke  strange  murmurings  of  disease.  He 
saw  it  shrink  gradually  to  the  dimensions  of  a  vinca 
leaf;  and  as  the  strangling  death  rattle  proclaimed  the 
end,  the  last  morsel  of  the  skin  melted  into  nothing- 
ness, and  was  gone. 

Beloved,  we  have  given  a  brief  of  this  awful  allegory 
in  much  of  the  novelist's  own  words.  Do  you  recog- 
nize the  types?  The  magic  skin  is  the  undisciplined 
desire  for  worldly  success,  indulgence  in  which 
shortens  life  by  exhausting  the  nervous  energy.  Have 
you  not  seen  men  devoting  themselves  to  the  posses- 
sion of  some  prize,  and  finding,  when  the  prize  was 
won,  that  they  were  no  longer  capable  of  deriving 
pleasure  from  it  ?  Have  you  not  seen  men  grow  rich 
and  at  the  same  time  losing  the  power  to  enjoy  their 
riches?     Do  you  remember,  in  Greek  mythology,  the 


ENVIRONMENT.  67 

story  of  Tantalus,  from  which  our  word  "tantalize" 
is  derived?  Do  you  recall  the  punishment  the  gods 
meted  out  to  him  in  the  lower  world?  He  stood  up 
to  his  neck  in  water,  which  fled  from  him  when  he 
tried  to  drink  it,  and  over  his  head  hung  fruits  rich 
and  rare,  which  the  wind  wafted  when  he  tried  to 
grasp  them.  Are  we  not  having  that  scene  enacted 
before  our  eyes  every  day?  There  are  men  who  can 
adorn  the  walls  of  their  homes  with  any  number  of 
beautiful  pictures,  but  who  cannot  appreciate  them; 
men  whose  library  is  filled  with  the  choicest  books, 
but  do  not  care  to  open  one,  unless  it  is  a  cash  book. 
Have  you  not  seen  such  men? 

Some  years  ago  George  William  Curtis  published  a 
volume  called  "  Prue  and  I."  There  is  a  chapter  in  it 
entitled  Mr.  Tidbottom's  spectacles.  The  magical 
quality  of  these  glasses  was  that  when  their  owner 
looked  at  any  one  through  them  he  saw  the  real  man. 
He  looked  at  one  man  and  saw  a  ledger,  at  another 
and  saw  a  champagne  bottle. 

There  is  an  old  proverb  which  says:  "It  is  not 
worth  while  to  kill  yourself  to  keep  yourself."  How 
many  are  doing  just  that !  How  many  are  losing  the 
higher  life  in  grasping  the  endeavor  to  gain  the  lower 
life!  King  James,  learning  of  the  poverty  of  Ben 
Jonson,  sent  him  five  shillings.  Jonson  said  to  the 
messenger: 

"The  king  sends  me  five  shillings  because  I  live  in 
an  alley;  tell  him  his  soul  lives  in  an  alley." 

We  do  not  admire  the  ingratitude  of  Jonson  or  his 
unkind  reply,  but  the  lesson  is  plain :  it  is  possible  for 
the  life  to  enlarge  and  at  the  same  time  for  the  real 
man  to  shrink ;  it  is  possible  to  augment  a  fortune  and 


68  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

to  diminish  a  man.     Prosperity  should  be  a  life  pre- 
server; alas,  full  oft  it  is  a  life  destroyer! 

PRISONERS    OF    JESUS    CHRIST. 

But  if  the  prisoners  of  adversity  are  ever  with  us, 
and  the  prisoners  of  prosperity  are  a  large  and  increas- 
ing number,  let  us  hasten,  in  conclusion,  to  take  note 
of  that  considerable  and  growing  circle  who  are  the 
slaves  of  the  higher  life.  These  are  that  choice  company 
of  select  children  who  pride  themselves  in  being  called 
the  prisoners  of  Jesus  Christ. 

Such  was  the  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles.  His 
favorite  introduction  of  himself  is:  "I,  the  prisoner 
of  Jesus  Christ " ;  his  favorite  title,  "  doulos."  He  was 
a  slave,  and  he  gloried  in  it.  "  For  from  henceforth 
let  no  man  trouble  me,  for  I  bear  in  my  body  the 
marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus." 

I  have  a  friend  with  whom  I  spent  many  happy 
years  in  college,  and  at  the  time  of  his  graduation  he 
offered  himself  for  missionary  work  in  Africa.  His 
was  a  tall,  handsome,  personable  physique,  turning 
the  scale  at  230  pounds.  He  would  enter  the  football 
field  as  captain  of  our  college  eleven,  and  not  a  man 
but  looked  up  to  him  as  far  and  away,  in  every  line, 
the  first  athlete  on  the  gridiron.  For  three  years  he 
was  pitcher  on  the  'varsity  nine.  He  would  enter  the 
examination  hall,  and  when  the  marks  were 
announced  he  was  at  the  top  of  his  class,  not  in 
one  subject  alone,  but  in  all.  At  the  time  of  his 
graduation,  he  received  the  gold  medal,  and  the 
honor  of  being  the  only  man  in  the  history  of  the 
institution  that  ever  came  out  first  in  every  depart- 
ment of  study.     But  he  "sacrificed"  a  brilliant  intel- 


ENVIRONMANT.  69 

lect   and   a   great   muscle   for   Christ.     He   went   to 
Africa. 

Pray,  dear  reader,  what  sent  him  thither.?  Was  it 
gold?  Indeed  to  some  of  us  who  knew  him  best  it 
seemed  as  if  all  the  wealth  of  Pierpont  Morgan  would 
not  avail  to  keep  him  home,  so  determined  was  he. 
Was  fame  the  enticement?  Never  will  he  be  known. 
What  power,  then,  could  it  have  been  that  drew  him 
from  a  lovely  home  and  a  lovely  mother  and  two 
lovely  sisters  to  a  place  so  uninviting?  Ah,  it  was 
the  power  of  the  cross,  the  slavery  of  Jesus — the  same 
slavery  that  sent  Livingstone  to  Africa,  and  Duff  to 
India,  and  MacKay  to  Formosa,  and  Patteson  to 
Melanesia. 

"  Were  the  whole  realm  of  nature  mine, 
That  were  a  present  far  too  small; 
Love  so  amazing,  so  divine, 

Demands  my  soul,  my  life,  my  all." 

To  all  of  life's  captive  children  come  the  glad  news 
that  the  truth  can  make  us  free.  "  Is  not  this  the  fast 
that  I  have  chosen,"  saith  the  Lord,  "to  loose  the 
bands  of  wickedness,  to  undo  the  heavy  burdens,  and 
to  let  the  oppressed  go  free?"  Christ  is  the  fountain 
of  all  freedom.  He  is  a  door  to  those  in  custody; 
wings  is  He  to  the  cast-down  in  soul,  hope  to  the 
disquieted.  He  is  health  to  the  broken-hearted, 
deliverance  to  the  captives,  liberty  to  the  bruised. 
He  unshackles  fetters.  He  emancipates  serfs.  Come 
into  His  service,  dear  reader.  Come  voluntarily, 
cheerfully,  gladly.  Disobedience  and  resistance  are 
bondage.  The  willing  slavery  of  the  best  is  liberty. 
"In  tune  with  the  infinite"  is  liberty.  "Life,"  says 
Dr.  Vandyke,  "is  self-change  to  meet  environment." 


70  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Is  thine  a  weak  body?  Consecrate  it  to  Him,  and  thy 
very  weakness  will  be  made  strength.  Art  thou 
hampered  by  circumstance,  and  cast  down  by 
adversity  and  ingratitude?  Know  that  to  those  who 
love  God,  who  are  the  called  according  to  His  purpose, 
all  things  work  together  for  good.  Is  prosperity  at 
thy  disposal?  Watch  and  pray,  lest  it  enthrall  thee. 
Surrender  thine  all  to  Him,  a  living  sacrifice — body, 
soul,  spirit,  time,  talent,  wealth,  business  cares,  influ- 
ence, duty,  labor,  home,  wife,  child.  Be  transformed 
by  the  renewing  of  thy  mind.  Thus  wilt  thou  find 
that  perfect  slavery  which  is  perfect  freedom,  as  thou 
dost  prove  what  is  that  good,  and  acceptable,  and 
perfect  will  of  God. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HARMONY  THROUGH  EXPERIENCE. 
"Come  and  see."     John  1:46. 

These  words  are  wholesome.  They  are  frank,  open 
and  above  board.  The  Gospel  courts  inspection. 
Take  your  sledge  and  sound  every  stone  in  the  build- 
ing. No  room  in  the  temple  is  locked.  Knock,  and  it 
shall  be  opened.  Free  is  the  holy  of  holies  to  all. 
Personal  experience  is  the  vital  note. 

The  Christian  religion  has  everything  to  gain  from 
thorough  probing.  It  has  no  favors  to  ask;  all  its 
favors  are  gifts.  It  submits  itself  to  the  test  of 
science.  It  asks  men  to  think  and  prove.  It  places 
us  on  the  hills ;  yonder  is  the  north  and  the  south,  the 
east  and  the  west.  It  wishes  nothing  secreted.  It  is 
for  the  daylight  and  the  uplands.  Let  there  be  no 
political  wire-pulling,  or  slating  or  doctoring  in  the 
dark.  Let  nothing  be  done  in  a  corner.  Let  the 
examination  be  merciless  and  thorough.  Let  the 
whole  truth  be  told.  Search,  sift,  satisfy,  question, 
cross-question.  Neglect  not  hammer  and  scalpel  and 
retort  and  reagent  and  electric  coil  and  vernier.  If 
the  investigation  be  open,  and  accurate,  and  honest, 
and  healthy,  and  keen,  there  is  no  doubt  of  the  verdict. 

Never  was  there  such  heart-hunger  for  truth  as 
to-day;  never  did  the  world  ask  such  questions,  and 
so  many;  never  was  age  so  interrogative,  never  such  a 
cry  for  evidence.  Is  it  a  healthy  sign?  Surely. 
Inquiry  must  not  be  crushed,  but  courted  rather. 

(71) 


72  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

"If  my  faith  is  false,  "  said  Bishop  Berkeley,  "  I  want 
to  know  it;  I  want  to  know  it  now."  The  hope 
immortal  must  not  rest  on  what  is  perishable.  The 
Bible  is  a  book  that  welcomes  the  strongest  light  that 
lens  can  focus.  There  is  nothing  close  or  stifling  in  the 
temple  of  revealed  truth — no  bad  ventilation.  Its 
windows  are  open.  The  air  is  pure.  Walking 
through  it  one  feels  as  if  he  were  inhaling  a  breeze 
from  the  mountain,  a  whiff  from  the  ocean. 

Jesus  trusts  His  message  to  a  world  of  thinking 
men.  Here  it  is  in  the  open.  There  is  no  cloud,  no 
concealment.  It  has  no  mysterious  esoteric  pass- 
word. It  learns  every  language,  sets  its  foot  on  every 
silver  shore;  "its  wings  were  made  to  flap  in  the 
firmament."  Such  faith  has  our  Lord  in  the  inde- 
structibility of  what  He  came  to  teach,  that  He 
charged  His  followers  to  proclaim  it  from  the  house- 
top. 

With  this  thought  uppermost,  let  us  hasten  to  the 
text  before  us.  ''  Philip  saith  unto  Nathaniel,  Come 
and  see";  and  for  memory-support  let  us  move 
along  two  lines : 

I.     Come  and  see. 

II.     Come  and  see  Jesus. 

I. COME  AND  SEE. 

Nathaniel  could  not  believe  that  the  Messiah  had 
come  from  Nazareth;  but  a  little  out-of-the-way 
hamlet  up  in  the  highlands  was  Nazareth. 

"  Very  well, "  Philip  says,  "  come  with  me.  Do  not 
make  up  your  mind  until  you  see.  Do  not  criticise 
first,  and  then  come.     Come  first,  and  then  criticise.  " 

Surely  that  is  fair ;  verily  that  would  be  accepted  by 


EXPERIENCE.  73 

any  American  jury.  Christianity  is  the  most  reason- 
able proposal  that  was  ever  presented  to  a  thinking 
world.  Never  does  it  drive,  but  draw;  never  does  it 
compel  assent,  but  rather  coax  inquiry;  it  can  be 
tested.  For  certainty  can  be  had  on  religious  matters 
as  on  scientific  matters.  Not  all  experimenting  is 
monopolized  by  the  chemist.  The  soul,  too,  can 
handle  his  tools  with  advantage.  "O  taste  and  see 
that  the  Lord  is  good. "  Nothing  is  more  convincing 
than  the  sense  of  taste.  If  a  babe  has  once  tasted 
honey,  all  the  nurses  in  town  cannot  persuade  its  little 
tongue  that  it  is  not  sweet.  If  you  take  a  piece  of 
gold  to  the  jeweller  he  applies  the  test  of  acid;  should 
the  acid  leave  a  stain,  the  claim  of  pure  gold  is  falsified. 

Some  years  ago  there  was  a  discussion  in  the  press 
as  to  the  benefits  of  vaccination;  it  is  not  a  question 
for  argument,  but  for  statistics.  A  few  years  ago  a 
Frenchman,  Mesmer  by  name,  discovered  what  he 
called  mesmerism.  It  was  scoffed  at  by  the  wise  as 
deception;  but  a  committee  of  investigation  was 
appointed,  and  they  reported  favorably.  Thus,  and 
in  many  ways,  it  may  be  seen  that  a  large  percentage 
of  questions  in  this  world  is  experimental. 

One  may  be  a  greater  chemist  than  Faraday  and  a 
greater  reasoner  than  William  Pitt,  but  he  cannot  tell 
by  mere  reasoning  whether  a  precipitate  will  be 
formed  by  adding  ammonia  to  mercuric  chloride ;  it  is 
a  question,  not  of  reasoning  but  of  seeing.  Dr. 
Lardner,  an  eminent  mathematician  in  the  university 
of  Oxford,  wrote  an  article  for  Blackwood's  Magazine, 
proving  that  no  steamship  could  ever  cross  the 
Atlantic;  but  the  steamer  "Sirius, "  only  a  few 
months  later  brought  that  article  to  America.     He 


74  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

also  staked  his  repute  as  a  man  of  science  before  the 
House  of  Commons  that  no  railway  train  could  ever  go 
faster  than  ten  miles  an  hour.  Again  it  was  a  ques- 
tion, not  of  reasoning  but  of  seeing.  We  have  not  yet 
forgotten  that  eminent  engineer  who  once  declared 
that  no  bridge  could  ever  be  built  across  the  Missis- 
sippi; and  we  remember,  too,  that  Babinet,  the 
French  calculator,  asserted  that  the  idea  of  trans- 
mitting a  telegram  from  Queenstown  to  New  York 
was  childish.  Is  it  not  recorded  in  the  life  of  Comte, 
that  the  great  philosopher  advised  his  followers  to 
cease  attempting  to  find  out  anything  about  the  filled 
stars,  because  such  knowledge  was  forever  beyond  the 
reach  of  man?  And  does  not  the  same  historian  tell 
us  that  before  he  had  been  dead  ten  years  the  spectro- 
scope was  discovered  ?  And  now  our  knowledge  of  the 
fixed  stars  is  respectably  considerable.  The  dark 
valleys  and  mountain  peaks  on  Mars  cannot  be  rea- 
soned out;  they  must  be  seen.  The  monks  of  four 
hundred  years  ago  might  have  beheld  Jupiter's 
moons,  had  they  only  been  willing  to  condescend  and 
look  through  Galileo's  telescope.  Ours  is  a  universe 
where  stars  crowd  into  the  sky-ceiling  in  proportion  as 
the  eye  is  assisted  and  made  far-sighted. 

There  is  what  is  called  the  "cushion  of  the  sea.'' 
Down  beneath  the  agitated  surface  there  is  a  part  that 
is  never  stirred,  peaceful  as  a  vault.  Formerly  it  was 
believed  there  was  no  life  down  there.  Learnedly  and 
conclusively  did  each,  Thompson  and  Tyndall,  prove 
that  the  tremendous  pressure  and  absence  of  light 
made  life  at  certain  depths  impossible.  In  the  year 
1880  the  ship  "Challenger"  dropped  Brooke's  sound- 
ing weight  five  miles  deep  in  the  Indian  Ocean.     The 


EXPERIENCE.  75 

valve  of  the  weight  was  opened  and  closed,  and  some 
of  the  dredgings  brought  to  the  surface.  When 
Prof.  Bailey  examined  it,  little  marine  insects  were 
uncovered.  Diatoms  he  named  them,  and  assigned 
them  to  the  vegetable  world.  Once  more  it  was  a 
question,  not  of  reasoning,  but  of  seeing. 

It  is  personal  experience  and  sensuous  perception 
that  carries  with  it  the  logic  unanswerable.  What 
cared  the  man  born  blind  that  the  Pharisees  rejected 
Jesus?  He  knew  He  had  made  him  to  see.  What 
cared  Galileo  for  deductions  against  the  motions  of 
the  earth  when  he  pointed  his  newly  constructed  glass 
to  those  million  jewels  that  blaze  on  the  brow  of  night? 
What  cared  Fulton  for  the  laughs  and  jeers  of  his 
cynical  countrymen  when  he  proposed  to  take  a  party 
up  the  Hudson  on  the  "  Clermont "  ?  "  The  thing  will 
burst,"  says  one;  "it'll  burn  up,"  another  cries; 
"they'll  all  be  drowned,"  exclaimed  a  third;  "put 
Fulton  and  his  folly  in  the  asylum,"  shouted  the 
multitudes  that  lined  the  banks.  The  great  inventor 
simply  smiled  and  said:  "Wait  and  see."  Then  the 
paddle  wheels  began  to  turn. 

THE    BEST    PROOF. 

Suppose  you  deny  the  saving  power  of  Christ's 
blood  to  a  man  who  is  a  living  witness  of  that  power; 
what  then?  Is  not  the  best  proof  that  which  needs 
no  proof?  Self-evidence  cannot  be  proved;  it  is  its 
own  proof.  When  Mozart  walked  out  into  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  morning  air  and  listened  to  the  lark,  he  did 
not  feel  like  dissecting  it  to  find  the  music. 

"Sing  on,  sweet  messenger,"  the  great  composer 
said;  "sing  on,  sing  on.". 


76  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

When  Rosetti  once  plucked  a  rose  he  did  not  shake 
its  petals  in  the  dust  to  find  the  beauty. 

"  Let  the  little  diamond  blow  and  blush,"  the  poet- 
painter  thought;  *'by  this  I  know  the  rose  is  beautiful, 
and  that  there  is  better  beauty  in  the  heart  of  God." 

I  do  not  wish  to  analyze  my  mother's  love;  I  would 
rather  feel  it.  It  were  difficult  to  prove  in  syllogism 
convincing  that  a  parent  loves  its  child,  but  what  no 
syllogism  can  state  the  heart  knows.  I  do  not  under- 
stand the  exact  relationship  of  Christ  to  the  everlast- 
ing Father;  I  have  not  mastered  the  metaphysical 
analysis  of  His  matchless  character;  I  would  much 
rather  just  see  Christ ;  and  as  Lord  Byron  had  himself 
shut  up  all  night  in  a  dungeon  in  Venice  that  he  might 
have  a  truer  appreciation  of  the  life  of  the  prisoners 
and  the  joy  of  his  own  life  of  freedom,  so  I  would  shut 
myself  up  in  the  quiet  of  my  own  closet  and  on  bended 
knee  come  face  to  face  with  my  personal  Saviour,  that 
I  might  have  a  truer  conception  of  the  slavery  and 
hideousness  and  enormity  of  my  sins,  and  the  glorious 
liberty  of  the  life  to  which  He  calls  me. 

But  ever  mindful  let  us  be  that  the  tests  of  truth 
are  multiform  and  various.  Corn  calls  for  a  Fair- 
banks, timber  for  a  foot  rule.  We  approach  harmony 
with  the  eye,  and  melody  with  the  ear,  beauty  with 
the  taste,  and  duty  with  the  conscience.  The  star 
requires  a  telescope;  the  bacillus  a  microscope;  but 
the  "heart  is  the  window  through  which  we  see 
heavenly  things."  No  Gladstone  would  take  a  tape 
measure  to  see  how  far  aloft  Homer's  thought  ran, 
nor  a  steel-yard  to  weigh  the  heavy  syllogisms  of 
Bishop  Butler.  You  cannot  sweep  up  sunshine  with 
a  broom,  nor  raise  doubts  with  a  derrick.     A  great 


EXPERIENCE.  77 

cartoonist  makes  us  smile  by  sketching  some  hod- 
carrier  as  he  examines  a  Turner  masterpiece  with  his 
penknife.  It  is  as  absurd  to  go  to  physical  science 
for  the  proof  of  Scripture  as  to  consult  solid  geometry 
for  information  on  Bright's  disease.  Natural  things 
are  naturally  discerned;  supernatural  things,  super- 
naturally. 

Just  here  let  us  pause  to  add,  in  passing,  that 
patient  lovers  of  truth  have  been  imposed  on  by  the 
unreasonableness  of  men  who  imagine  that  scientific 
eminence  entitles  them  to  weigh  Christianity;  and 
because  they  are  experts  with  the  electric  coil  and 
scalpel,  that  they  are,  therefore,  necessarily  experts 
in  everything  else.  When  John  Locke's  famous  blind 
man  was  once  asked  what  scarlet  was  like,  he  an- 
swered, "Like  the  sound  of  a  trumpet";  when  asked 
what  blue  was  like  he  answered,  "Like  the  tones  of 
a  flute."  Not  much  more  considerable  was  Sir 
Robert  Peel's  estimate  of  Tennyson's  poetry  when 
he  offered  the  laureate  a  pension,  confessing  at  the 
time  that  he  had  never  read  a  line  of  his  writings. 

Within  his  own  province  we  admit  the  right  of  every 
man  to  speak  with  note  commanding.  Here,  for  in- 
stance, is  some  Audubon  who  has  devoted  all  his  life 
to  the  study  of  birds.  On  that  subject  let  us  hasten 
to  kneel  to  his  authority ;  let  us  accept  with  becoming 
modesty  the  deep  results  of  his  research.  But  herein 
lies  the  danger  of  specialism.  Our  expert  ornithol- 
ogist becomes  ambitious  to  dogmatize  in  some  field 
where  he  is  not  an  authority,  not  even  a  fair  judge. 
Think  of  some  Beecher  writing  a  treatise  on  juris- 
prudence, crossing  swords  with  Blackstone!  Think 
of  Mr.  Darwin  writing  a  commentary  on  Shakspere! 


78  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Does  not  the  story  go  on  to  tell  us  that  one  evening, 
picking  up  Hamlet,  the  great  naturalist  found  it  so 
dull  as  to  drop  into  slumber?  Think  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  writing  an  introduction  to  "Paradise  Lost"! 
Once  upon  a  time  did  he  not  read  it  and  ask  contempt- 
uously at  the  close:  "What  does  it  all  prove?"  A 
beautiful  concept  meant  nothing  to  Sir  Isaac,  unless 
it  proved  something;  surely  he  forgot  that  his  mother's 
love  was  beyond  the  carnal  grip  of  proof.  Think  of 
Mr.  Huxley  publishing  a  volume  of  lay  sermons  on 
the  Gospel  of  John!  Now,  Mr,  Huxley  was  a  prince 
among  scientists,  and  Mr.  Beecher  was  a  king  among 
preachers;  but  the  legal  brotherhood  respectfully  de- 
cline to  take  Mr.  Beecher  as  their  authority  on  juris- 
prudence, and  surely  the  church  cannot  be  accused  of 
any  extreme  narrowness  if  she  declines  Mr.  Huxley  as 
her  prophet  on  religion. 

II.       COME    AND    SEE    JESUS. 

But  the  third  little  monosyllable  of  our  text  is  a 
transitive  verb.  Philip's  invitation  to  Nathaniel  was 
to  come  and  see  Jesus.  This  must  be  our  "gospel 
for  an  age  of  doubt." 

Today  honest  inquiry  does  not  reject  Christ;  what 
it  does  reject  is  misconception  and  caricature.  It 
rejects  creed,  but  Christ's  magnificence  can  be  crushed 
into  no  creed,  it  matters  not  how  pliant  and  plastic. 
A  man  climbing  the  flanks  of  Pike's  peak  cannot  form 
a  final  estimate  of  the  survey;  he  is  getting  higher 
every  moment;  the  horizon  is  retreating,  the  vision 
widening.  There  are  traditional  interpretations  of 
the  Nazarene's  teachings,  just  as  there  are  traditional 
photographs  of  His  profile;  but  the  world  owns  no 


EXPERIENCE.  79 

portraiture  of  the  man,  and  the  distortions  of  the  one 
are  sometimes  as  pronounced  as  those  of  the  other. 
For  as  the  heaven  is  high  above  the  earth,  so  high  is 
character  above  creed  and  deed  above  doctrine.  Mis- 
sionaries tell  us  that  there  are  Mohammedans,  who 
when  they  see  a  man  intoxicated,  exclaim:  "He  has 
left  Mohammed  and  gone  over  to  Jesus."  Such  scan- 
dal have  we  brought  upon  the  sacred  Name!  Paul 
says  that  if  the  men  around  the  cross  had  only  known 
the  true  Christ,  they  would  not  have  crucified  the 
Lord  of  Glory.  If  a  doubting  world  would  but  come 
and  see  the  real  Saviour  as  He  is,  they  would  no 
longer  antagonize  and  reject  Him. 

In  the  ancient  myth,  Orion,  while  sleeping  on  the 
seashore,  had  his  eyes  put  out;  he  recovered  sight  by 
looking  to  the  rising  sun.  If  the  inner  eye  be  dark- 
ened, let  us  turn  our  blinded  hearts  to  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness.  Jesus  is  the  true  Light  which  lighteth 
every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world.  Thus  will 
our  spiritual  vision  be  recovered  and  made  clear.  For 
no  person  was  ever  so  open  and  accessible  as  Jesus. 

Religion  has  nothing  to  fear  from  criticism.  Ours 
is  an  evangel,  let  us  repeat  once  more,  that  thrives 
best  where  the  sunlight  is  strongest.  It  is  for  the 
rostrum  and  the  market-place.  It  brooks  no  monop- 
oly. It  is  the  friend  of  the  daylight.  It  works  best 
in  the  fresh  air  and  on  the  naked  hills.  It  lives  for 
the  commonwealth. 

There  is  a  famous  passage  in  the  opening  bars  of 
Mendelssohn's  "Elijah,"  in  which  the  musician  tries 
to  represent  the  despair  of  a  nation  perishing  from 
thirst.  There  are  sullen,  restless  murmurings;  there 
are  cries  of  heart-rending  agony.     The  world  has  tried 


8o  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

to  slake  its  thirst  at  the  dry  wells  of  agnosticism,  and 
positivism,  and  a  Christless  Christianity;  but  to-day 
the  wail  comes  back,  "Give  us  back  the  Christ  we 
have  lost."  The  cry  of  the  world  to-day  is,  ''Sirs, 
we  would  see  Jesus";  not  through  a  glass  darkly, 
not  distorted  by  human  prejudice  or  clouded  by 
faulty  conception,  but  Jesus  as  He  is,  the  real  Jesus. 

It  is  not  Calvinism  the  world  wants,  nor  Armenian- 
ism;  not  the  thirty  nine-articles;  nor  is  it  creed  and 
confessional.  Nothing  but  the  living  Christ  Himself 
will  satisfy.  There  is  a  hungering  and  a  yearning  at 
the  world's  heart  for  the  living  Bread  which  came 
down  from  Heaven.  Men  have  grown  tired  of  a 
lifeless  verbiage.  A  Christianity  without  Christ  is  a 
husk.  What  the  world  wants,  what  the  world  must 
have,  is  the  personal  Jesus — Son  of  Man,  Son  of  Mary, 
Son  of  God.  Personal  experience  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  only  harmonizer  of  the  world's  noisy 
discordant,  doubting  voices. 

If  a  student  refuse  to  believe  that  a  circle  is  round, 
then  it  were  folly  for  him  to  enter  on  the  study  of  the 
higher  geometry.  A  physician  cannot  persuade  his 
patient  that  the  medicine  is  not  distasteful  if  he  shuts 
his  mouth  and  clenches  his  teeth.  "Come,"  the 
Scriptures  say,  and  they  say  it  six  hundred  and 
forty-two  times.     "Come,  come,  come!" 

Come  and  see  this  meek  and  lowly  Man  for  thyself. 
Some  things  are  plain  till  you  commence  to  explain; 
the  noon-day  star  is  lost  in  the  brightness.  Some 
things  are  lustrous  till  you  begin  to  illustrate.  The 
good  Christian  lady  said  that  the  commentary  on 
"Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which  her  pastor  had  sent  to 
her,  was  not  as  clear  as  the  text.     No  sermon  about 


EXPERIENCE.  81 

Jesus  was  ever  so  simple  and  understandable  as 
Jesus.  He  hides  Himself  to  irreverent  approach,  but 
there  is  a  beautiful  simplicity  about  Him  to  the 
child-spirit.  The  way-faring  man,  though  a  fool, 
need  not  go  astray.  "Oh,  taste  and  see  that  the 
Lord  is  good."  No  doctrine  do  we  propound;  simply 
an  acquaintance  with  the  real  Jesus.  Will  you  not 
give  me  the  honor,  dear  hearer,  to  introduce  you  to 
the  King?  Come  and  see  for  yourself.  Be  satisfied 
with  no  creed,  no  confessional.  Let  no  priest  or 
pastor  come  'twixt  you  and  your  Lord.  Christ  is 
Christianity;  come  and  see  Christ. 

A  dreadful  battle  that  was  between  Caesar  and 
Pompey,  when  80,000  brave  soldiers  lost  their  lives. 
Caesar  tells  us  that  he  did  not  want  to  fight,  but 
Pompey  pressed  him.  After  the  battle  he  stood  upon 
the  field  and  exclaimed : 

*'  Alas,  he  would  have  it  so!  " 

Dear  sinner,  if  you  are  lost,  it  is  because  you  will 
have  it  so.  Jesus  invites  you.  He  wants  you.  He 
pleads  with  you.  He  yearns  for  you.  He  died  for 
you,  and  rose  again.  "Come  and  try  me,"  He  says. 
"Give  Me  a  chance.  See  whether  or  not  I  will 
deceive  you.  If  after  a  fair  trial  you  find  Me  false, 
you  can  return  to  your  old  companionships.  " 

Could  any  proposition  be  simpler,  fairer  ?  You  will 
lose  nothing.     You  may  gain  everything. 

There  are  two  lives  possible  for  us.  There  is  the 
life  of  trust  and  the  life  of  insurrection.  The  life  of 
trust  is  the  life  of  surrender,  which  is  the  life  of  obedi- 
ence, which  is  the  life  of  harmony,  which  is  the  life  of 
happiness,  which  is  the  life  of  peace.  The  life  of 
insurrection  is  the  life  of  self-will,  which  is  the  life  of 


82  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

rebellion,  which  is  the  life  of  estrangement,  which  is 
the  life  of  discord,  which  is  the  life  of  unrest. 

Dearly  beloved,  are  you  in  trouble?  Won't  you 
come  and  see  Jesus?  Are  you  in  temptation?  Why 
not  come  to  Jesus?  Are  you  in  doubt?  Are  you 
groping  for  the  light  ?  Are  you  concerned  about  your 
sins?  Are  you  interested  in  pardon  and  peace  of 
conscience?  Are  you  honestly  anxious  to  find  the 
way?  Do  you  feel  the  skepticism  of  the  age  eating 
into  the  groundwork  of  your  early  faith?  Let  me 
plead  with  you  to  come  and  make  the  acquaintance  of 
this  man  Jesus.  I  believe  He  will  show  you  the  light. 
He  will  make  things  plain.  He  will  make  the  way 
clear.  He  will  remove  doubts.  He  will  make  your 
confidence  steadfast.  He  will  give  you  assurance. 
He  will  make  you  strong,  and  clean,  and  happy,  and 
brave.  If  I  did  not  believe  that  with  all  my  heart  and 
soul  and  strength  and  mind,  I'd  never  preach  again. 

"  I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

I  am  this  dark  world's  light; 
Look  unto  me,  thy  morn  shall  rise, 

And  all  thy  day  be  bright. 
I  looked  to  Jesus,  and  I  found 

In  Him  my  Star,  my  Sun ; 
And  in  that  light  of  life  I'll  walk, 

Till  traveling  days  are  done." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HARMONY     WITH    THE    CHRIST-LIFE. 

"  That  in  all  things  He  might  have  the  pre-emmence."  Col.  1 :18. 

The  heroes  of  history  are  in  danger  of  being  lost. 
After  death  a  great  man  is  ofttimes  idealized.  The 
popular  fancy  plays  around  him  with  a  glamor. 
Stories  pass  current  that  have  no  factual  ground. 
Memory  weaves  myth.  The  pathway  of  the  past 
loses  its  roughness,  for  "'tis  always  twilight  in  the 
land  of  Memory. " 

Memory  is  the  mother  of  mythology.  Plato  for 
long  was  thought  to  have  been  bom  of  a  virgin. 
Alexander  was  believed  to  have  been  the  son  of  a  god. 
All  the  Caesars  were  deified  as  soon  as  they  were  dead. 
The  early  Greeks  placed  the  Golden  Age  in  the  begin- 
ning. Then  Saturn  lived  in  person  on  the  earth.  He 
was  the  father  of  gods  and  men.  There  was  no  pain, 
no  sorrow,  no  disease.  Sin  was  as  yet  unborn.  This 
was  succeeded  by  the  age  of  Bronze,  when  the  gods 
left  the  earth,  and  life  and  government  declined. 
Then  followed  the  age  of  Brass,  and  finally  the  age  of 
Iron.  And  so  the  closer  we  approach  the  living 
picture  of  the  present,  the  coarser  its  coloring.  It 
seems  a  smear,  a  smudge,  a  melancholy  daub.  Verily, 
indeed,  a  prophet  hath  no  honor  in  his  own  country, 
for  ''  distance  lends  enchantment. " 

Attention  has  been  drawn  to  our  own  George 
Washington,  who,  alas!  has  been  buried  in  aprocrypha 
and  haze.     The  real  Washington  has  given  way  to  the 

(83) 


84  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

ideal.  One  genealogist  has  traced  his  ancestry  back 
to  Odin.  The  Washington  that  had  his  weaknesses 
is  gone,  and  we  have  instead  canonized  a  Washington 
— Washington  the  saint,  Washington  the  savior. 

What  has  history  done  with  Jesus?  Let  us  hasten 
to  confess  the  strange  anomaly  that  history  has  both 
loved  and  hated  Him.  Criticism  has  attempted  to 
destroy  Him.  Scholars  have  labored  to  resolve  Him 
into  Greek  myth  and  Hebrew  legend,  but  unavailingly. 
At  one  time  His  humanity,  at  another  His  divinity  has 
been  obscured.  Socinus  gave  way  to  Strauss ;  Strauss 
to  Renan.  Stesichorus  says  that  Helena,  the  heroine 
of  Grecian  story,  was  never  carried  to  Troy  at  all,  and 
that  the  Greeks  and  Trojans  fought  for  a  figure  of  the 
far-famed  beauty;  so,  it  is  claimed,  did  the  evangelist 
historians.  "They  wove  the  wondrous  texture  from 
the  tangled  threads  of  fond  remembrance ;  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness  is  a  torch  of  human  kindling. "  But 
the  final  verdict,  and  calm,  is  that  He  is  historical. 
His  story  is  not  a  cunningly  concocted  tale.  He  is  not 
fabric,  but  fact.  His  personality  remains  imperish- 
able. He  is  substantial  and  abiding.  Men  could  not 
have  created  Him  if  they  would.  That  were  unthink- 
able. The  creator  is  more  than  the  creature.  Did 
Matthew  create  Jesus ?  Then,  truly  has  it  been  noted, 
Matthew  is  greater  than  Jesus,  and  Matthew  was  a 
tax-collector  and  a  Jew.  You  cannot  evolve  a 
Christ  from  a  Matthew. .  "It  takes  a  Newton  to  forge 
a  Newton,"  said  Theodore  Parker.  A  real  historical 
Christ  appeared.  No  other  alternative  fulfills  the 
facts.  This  is  what  Vandyke  calls  the  "Gospel  of  a 
Person. " 

Of  late  years  there  has  been  a  searching  study  of 


CHRIST-LIFE.  85 

the  real  Christ.  The  Christ  of  the  gospels  is  better 
known.  The  literature  of  His  age  has  been  examined 
with  such  method  and  minuteness  that  we  have  a 
truer  setting.  Heretofore  we  have  known  the  Christ 
of  theological  systems,  the  Christ  of  Chalcedon  and 
Constance  and  Trent  and  Westminster.  To-day  we 
are  studying  as  never  before  the  Christ  of  Nazareth 
and  Jerusalem.  And  what  is  the  reuslt?  By  consent 
unanimous  the  world  thrones  Him  to-day  supreme  in 
the  realm  of  Mentality,  Morality,  Ministry. 

JESUS     CHRIST     AN     INTELLECTUAL     FORCE. 

I. — Mentality.  Jesus  Christ  is  to-day  an  intellec- 
tual force  in  the  world.  There  is  no  school  or  court  or 
forum  where  His  influence  is  not  felt.  There  is  no 
speech  or  language  where  His  voice  is  not  heard.  His 
sound  has  gone  out  through  all  the  earth,  and  His 
words  to  the  end  of  the  world;  they  are  ever  ger- 
minating, ever  fruiting. 

The  test  of  greatness  is  its  creativeness,  and  the 
forces  it  sets  astir.  The  Jews  were  an  inartistic  race 
fenced  around  by  the  artist  nations  of  earth — Assyria,' 
Babylonia,  Egypt  and  Greece.  The  apostles,  who 
never  referred  to  the  subject  at  all,  have  yet  been 
made  the  subject  of  more  painting  and  statuary  and 
architectural  memorial  than  the  pagan  gods  of 
Greece  and  Rome.  St.  Paul,  who  stood  on  Mar's 
Hill  seemingly  oblivious  to  the  friezes  of  Phidias,  has 
yet  figured  in  the  great  cartoons  of  Raphael  and  the 
oratorios  of  the  masters.  This  is  the  commanding 
and  perpetual  surprise  of  history,  how  twelve  illiterate 
fishermen  have  become  the  centre  of  all  culture. 
Jesus  said:  "I  am  the  hght  of  the  world,"  and  cer- 


86  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES; 

tainly  He  has  "focused  on  Himself  the  light  of  the 
world's  learning."  Haydn  and  Handel  in  music; 
Raphael  and  Reynolds  in  painting;  Angelo  and 
Canova  in  sculpture ;  Grotius  and  Gladstone  in  states- 
manship ;  Blackstone  and  Burke  in  law.  His  teaching 
has  lent  melody  to  Mozart's  music,  grace  to  Dona- 
tello's  marble,  loveliness  to  Fiessole's  faces.  How 
much  does  each  Rembrandt  owe  to  Jesus !  It  was  the 
Madonna  that  made  Murillo. 

No  one  can  see  the  whole  Christ  at  once,  just  as  no 
one  can  see  the  whole  mountain  at  once.  He  is  the 
gigantic  figure  of  history.  To  take  in  His  full  propor- 
tions, one  must  fall  back.  Some  things  are  best  seen  a 
little  way  off,  as  stars  become  visible  when  you  look  a 
little  away  from  them.  Clamber  up  the  flanks  of 
Mount  Blanc  and  you  are  disappointed;  but  come 
down  into  the  vale  of  Chamounix  and  see  the  mighty 
monarch  tower! 

His  speech  is  not  big  in  bulk.  St.  Augustine  asks 
for  thirty  volumes  to  systematize  his  theology;  John 
Calvin  is  even  more  ambitious,  calling  for  forty  folios. 
But  Jesus  Christ  can  be  read  in  half  an  hour.  He 
never  tried  to  preserve  it  Himself,  and  He  never  asked 
another  to  preserve  it.  But  there  is  no  speech  like  it. 
It  is  so  simple  in  phrase  that  a  child  need  stumble  not ; 
it  stands  alone.  Goldsmith  says  of  Dr.  Johnson, 
"You  make  your  little  fishes  talk  like  whales." 
There  is  a  foolish  fondness  in  many  literatteurs  for 
swollen  language ;  yet  He  spoke  of  heavenly  things  in 
homely  garb  and  humble  fashion.  Nothing  could  be 
simpler  or  freer  from  sign  of  effort  than  the  mountain- 
talk.  Without  firstlies,  secondlies,  or  thirdlies,  it  is  so 
informal  as  to  baffle  analysis.     It  does  not  suggest 


CHRIST-LIFE.  87 

Aristotle's  Organons  or  Calvin's  dialectics.  "  It  is  the 
art  that  conceals  art."  It  is  not  a  mosaic;  it  is  a 
living  unit.  There  are  few  quotations  from  learned 
names.  There  is  no  long  list  of  citations  from  any 
Hillel  or  Shammai.  He  is  not  an  expositor;  He  is  a 
revealer.  His  teaching  is  not  commentary ;  it  is  text. 
It  is  not  apologetic ;  it  is  dogmatic.  It  does  not  have 
to  be  changed  to  suit  each  changing  age.  It  fits  every 
century — the  nineteenth  as  well  as  the  first,  the  first 
as  well  as  the  nineteenth.  It  carries  the  same  attrac- 
tion to  the  west  as  to  the  east,  to  the  east  as  to  the 
west.  Gibbon  sneered  at  the  idea  of  our  Lord's 
sayings  being  original.  He  said  he  had  read  some  of 
them  in  a  work  written  four  hundred  years  before  the 
Nazarene  ever  saw  the  light  of  Palestine.  But  what 
of  that?  The  rising  orb  of  day  mocks  not  the  paling 
Venus.  By  its  own  superior  glory  it  throws  it  into 
shade,  even  as  the  glow  worm  keeps  its  enemies  at 
bay  by  the  blinding  brightness  of  its  own  flash. 
Venus  only  caught  her  brilliant  disk  by  reflection, 
just  as  the  mountain  peaks  are  all  ablaze  long  ere 
sunrise,  and  flash  to  the  valleys  long  after  setting,  the 
glories  that  bathe  their  commanding  crests.  Music,  so 
the  poet  tells  us,  does  not  exist  until  you  come  to 
man.  Nature  is  a  jangle  of  sounds — the  roll  of  the 
river,  the  plaint  of  the  pine,  the  scream  of  the  storm, 
the  liberty  of  the  lark.  Music  means  emotion.  There 
are  a  number  of  beautiful  sounds  echoing  adown  the 
corridors  of  time,  but  only  when  Jesus  came  was 
sound  turned  into  music. 

The  intellect  of  Jesus  was  a  puzzle  to  the  scholars  of 
His  day.  It  had  a  depth  and  a  catholicity  they  could 
not  explain ;  it  had  a  passion  and  a  poise  they  could 


88  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

not  account  for;  it  had  a  positiveness  and  a  con- 
structiveness  they  could  not  interpret.  This  note  of 
authority  was  the  more  strange  as  He  had  not  been  in 
their  schools.  He  dwelt  in  realm  apart.  He  came 
not  asking  questions,  but  answering.  Therefore,  in 
bewilderment,  they  said:  "Whence  hath  this  man 
these  things?"  Emerging  from  the  narrowest  of 
nations,  provincial  in  thought  and  texture.  He 
stepped  out  on  the  arena  of  life  to  preach  the  widest 
of  faiths.  Nine  and  forty  times  in  the  evangelists  do 
we  read:  **  But  I  say  unto  you.  "  "  Here  we  have  the 
amazing  picture  of  a  simple  Hebrew  peasant  placing 
Himself,  in  words  presumptuous,  above  His  own 
traditions,  and  asserting  authority  over  human  con- 
duct. "  He  was  a  Jew  at  a  time  when  Judaism  was 
clannishest.  Judea  was  then  the  margin  of  the 
civilized  world. 

Surely  neither  time  nor  place  account  for  Him ;  nor 
does  family.  He  came  not  of  royal  blood  nor  priestly 
line.  **  Is  not  this  the  carpenter,  the  son  of  Joseph? " 
Hannibal  is  the  incarnation  of  the  wild  Punic  spirit. 
The  glory  of  a  nation  in  the  science  of  war  calls  forth  a 
Caesar  or  a  Charlemagne.  The  poetry  and  polity  and 
philosophy  of  Athens  explain  a  Plato.  The  culture  of 
the  Renaissance  accounts  for  Shakspere  and  Bacon. 
The  decadence  of  the  church  for  Luther  and  Wesley. 
But  no  law  of  heredity  or  environment  embraces 
Christ.  **  There  are  no  antecedents  large  enough  for 
His  coming,  no  parentage  lofty  enough  for  such  a 
Son. "     He  stands  in  solitude. 

Christianity  has  an  ethical  side,  and  much  has 
been  made  of  it;  but  it  has  also  an  intellectual  side, 
and  not  sufficiently  has  it  been  stressed.     It  has  a 


CHRIST-LIFE.  89 

message  for  the  realm  of  truth  as  well  as  for  the 
realm  of  intellect.  Christ  is  made  unto  us  wisdom. 
Among  His  disciples  have  been  strong,  heroic,  ven- 
turesome, clean-cut  thinkers.  Jesus  places  in  the 
fore  of  His  teaching  His  comprehensive  command: 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
mind."  Our  faith  thrives  not  in  the  atmosphere  of 
fear,  but  of  a  sound  mind.  It  does  not  serve  roots 
and  dry,  prickly  shrubs  to  our  mind-hunger.  The 
Christian  who  starves  his  mind  starves  it  not  for 
scarcity  of  strong  meat.  "Christ  reigns  today  as  no 
god  in  Rome,  as  no  deity  in  Greece,  as  no  divinity  in 
Egypt  ever  reigned — over  civilized,  free,  progressive 
men."  He  is  so  built  into  our  being  that  no  history 
can  be  written  without  Him.  His  voice  is  on  the  rolling 
wind.  The  light  of  His  presence  is  flashed  across  the 
mighty  deep.  The  thoughts  of  His  intellect  are 
woven  into  the  web  of  the  world's  wisdom.  Knowl- 
edge of  Him  has  created  the  richest  culture,  and 
faith  in  Him  has  wielded  the  mightiest  power. 

THE    REALM    OF    MORALS. 

2.  Morality.  Jesus  is  supreme,  secondly,  in  the 
realm  of  morals. 

In  describing  any  great  man,  some  one  or  two 
terms  are  used.  He  is  wise,  or  benevolent,  or  brave. 
But  otherwise  is  it  with  Jesus.  In  terming  Him 
intellectual,  we  do  not  mean  that  He  is  more  intel- 
lectual than  moral  or  spiritual.  His  nature  is  cubic. 
"The  length  and  the  breadth  and  the  height  of  it  are 
equal."  No  one  trait  describes  Him,  because  all 
others  are  equally  bold.  His  is  not  a  mountainous 
nature  whose  every  peak  has  its  corresponding  valley, 


90  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Switzerland-like.  He  is  all  mountain,  and  hence  all 
plain.  His  perfection  shuts  Him  off  from  definition, 
as  a  sphere  cannot  be  grasped  for  roundness.  Many- 
years  before  Plato  had  expressed  the  hope  that  the 
moral  law  might  become  incarnate.  Law  alone  was 
cold  and  colorless.  Fulfilling  this  heart-hunger, 
"the  Word  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us." 

Now,  some  of  our  brainiest  thinkers  have  been 
sadly  defective  in  character  and  conduct.  You  are 
to  see  the  glowing  genius,  the  daring  achievement, 
the  immortal  lyric,  the  literary  charm.  Byron  and 
Paul  Verlaine  soar  with  eye  sunward  and  heart  on 
carrion;  so,  many  of  our  sons  of  genius  have  had 
depraved  appetites  and  affections.  Bums  could  sing 
like  the  lark,  and  fly  where  foulness  lay,  like  the 
condor.  How  brilliant  Aaron  Burr  the  lawyer,  how 
like  a  beast  the  man!  Oft  in  our  biographical  rev- 
ellings  the  eye  greets  Bacchus  dancing  to  the  strains 
of  some  Mozart  or  Mendelssohn.  The  abattoir  is 
hidden  in  honeysuckle.  Looseness  and  license  are 
gilded  with  lustre,  as  a  mud  puddle  might  be  fringed 
with  golden  border. 

Not  thus  Jesus.  His  character  supports  His  intel- 
lect even  as  the  column  supports  the  capital.  In  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  at  London  there  is  a  standard 
linear  measurement  built  into  the  walls;  it  is  avail- 
able to  all,  and  infallible.  Jesus  Christ  is  the  infallible 
standard  of  perfect  manhood,  built  into  the  temple 
of  our  humanity.  In  vain  we  search  for  lapse  or 
flaw.  The  strongest  glass  does  not  expose  a  blemish. 
Enemies  have  searched  His  career  with  lamp  and 
candle,  but  no  profane  tongue  has  ever  whispered  a 
suggestion  against  His  blameless  name.     His  char- 


CHRIST-LIFE.  91 

acter  is  blotless;  His  life  spotless.  His  was  piety 
without  penitence.  His  perfection  has  no  parallel, 
no  approach. 

Proof  needed?  Witness  Channing,  the  Unitarian: 
"His  character  is  wholly  removed  from  human  com- 
prehension." Witness  Theodore  Parker:  *'His  is 
the  mightiest  heart  that  ever  beat  in  human  breast." 
Witness  Jean  Paul,  the  freethinker:  "Jesus  is  the 
purest  among  the  mighty,  the  mightiest  among  the 
pure."  Witness  Strauss,  the  skeptic:  "He  is  the 
highest  model  of  religion  within  the  reach  of  human 
thought."  Witness  Renan:  "Whatever  the  sur- 
prises of  history,  Jesus  will  never  be  surpassed." 
We  will  add  no  more.  He  needs  no  certificate  of 
recommendation  signed  by  any  of  earth's  Rousseaus 
or  Voltaires.  It  helps  not,  nor  does  it  hinder,  what 
John  Stuart  Mill  thought  of  Jesus.  Full  oft  we  grieve 
Him  with  patronage,  but  the  verdict  is  interesting. 

Now,  character  has  this  remarkable  distinction: 
you  can  place  it.  Given  a  certain  character,  and 
you  can  tell  when  it  lived  and  where.  If  a  man  is  an 
expert  archaeologist  and  you  give  him  a  mummy,  he 
can  tell  exactly  where  the  body  was  embalmed  and 
when.  Denuding  the  dead  of  its  wrappings,  and 
studying  swathe  and  texture,  he  can  fix  precisely 
place  and  period — anywhere  between  3,800  b.  c.  and 
700  A.  D.,  the  two  extremes  between  which  the  art 
was  practiced.  So  with  a  code  of  laws.  The  political 
economist  can  trace  it  to  its  indigenous  clime  and  soil 
and  habitat. 

But  Christ  cannot  be  localized.  He  belongs  to  the 
nineteenth  century  as  much  as  to  the  first,  nay  more, 
for  just  as  Handel  must  needs  wait  for  our  age  with 


92  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

its  improved  instrumentation  and  superior  skill  to 
have  a  worthier  rendering  and  a  fitter  embodiment 
for  his  oratorios,  even  so  the  nineteenth  century  is 
nearer  Christ  than  the  second,  the  second  is  at  a 
greater  remove  from  Him  than  the  nineteenth. 
Verily  He  is  the  "man  without  a  country,"  because 
the  man  of  every  country.  All  national  lines  are  lost 
in  Him.  He  belongs  to  all  territory,  all  time.  He 
belongs  to  no  class;  He  is  beyond  class. 

Does  the  age  explain  Him?  Great  men  some- 
times are  the  incarnation  of  the  spirit  of  the  age.  It 
is  not  strange  that  Socrates  should  preach  sobriety, 
as  when  he  philosophized  the  Spartans  were  a  sober 
people.  Think,  then,  of  the  times  in  which  Jesus 
lived.  Virgil  and  Horace  had  just  died;  Livy  was 
yet  living,  and  at  the  apex  of  his  fame.  What  say 
they?  The  jury  is  unanimous;  it  was  the  corruptest 
age  that  the  world  had  ever  seen.  On  Mount  Olym- 
pus were  gods  and  goddesses  representing  every 
human  passion.  Mars  was  the  god  of  war.  Mercury 
of  theft,  Bacchus  of  drink.  You  could  not  offer  a 
greater  insult  to  a  Roman  gentleman  than  to  tell  him 
he  was  like  his  god.  When  Herod  the  Great  gave 
the  order  from  his  death-bed  that  his  own  child 
should  be  strangled,  he  did  nothing  shocking  to  the 
sentiment  of  his  time.  Froude  tells  us  that  few 
statesmen  died  a  natural  death.  Plato  grouped 
slaves  and  wives  together  in  his  "Ideal  Republic." 
Juvenal  says:  "Many  are  divorced  ere  their  nuptial 
flowers  are  faded."  Seneca  tells  us  that  "many 
women  counted  their  years  by  the  number  of  their 
husbands."  What  saith  Tacitus?  That  the  Roman 
Empire  was  so  corrupt  that  he  preferred  not  to  detail. 


CHRIST-LIFE.  93 

"We  can,"  he  says,  "but  stand  at  the  cavern's  mouth 
and  glance  into  its  dark  depths;  were  we  to  enter, 
our  lamp  would  be  quenched  by  the  foul  air."  And 
what  saith  our  Matthew  Arnold?  If  he  has  any 
prejudices,  they  certainly  lean  not  our  way. 

"On  that  hard  pagan  world,  disgust 
And  sated  loathing  fell; 
Deep  weariness  and  sated  lust 
Made  human  life  a  hell." 

Surely  no  honest  man  will  claim  that  the  age  ex- 
plains Jesus.  "  He  was  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground." 
Heaven's  brightest  glory  and  earth's  blackest  guilt 
seem  here  to  meet.     In  the  mire  a  lily  blooms. 

Material  bodies  throw  off  emanations.  The  violets 
breathe  their  aroma  modestly.  The  mignonette 
throws  itself  out  farther  and  fills  a  wider  circle.  The 
orange  grove  flings  its  fragrance  far  afield,  flavoring 
whole  leagues  with  its  welcome.  So  likewise  men; 
some  have  good  atmosphere,  some  a  bad.  Some 
seem  born  in  the  spring,  some  in  the  autumn.  Some 
breathe  balm,  some  brimstone.  Margaret  informs 
Faust  that  the  very  sight  of  Mephistopheles  made 
her  blood  curdle.  She  knew  him  not.  He  might 
have  been  a  holy  hermit  for  aught  she  could  tell. 
His  mouth  was  bubbling  o'er  with  pious  platitude. 
Yet,  in  some  way  mysterious,  she  felt  his  approach 
freezing  to  lofty  impulse.  She  could  not  pray  when 
he  was  near. 

How  differently  Jesus!  In  His  presence  faith 
revived  and  blushed  into  bloom  and  color.  Hypoc- 
risy was  quieted,  and  prayer  found  vent  and  voice. 
There  was  a  certain  atmosphere  around  Him  that 
made  it  easier  for  His  followers  to  believe  in  goodness. 


94  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

Men  were  at  their  best  in  His  company.     They  were 
conscious  of  an  uphft. 

Not  many  Gladstones,  a  certain  historian  notes, 
but  there  are  a  few  that  share  with  him  the  wreaths 
of  the  rostrum.  Not  many  Napoleons,  but  there  are 
some  who  dispute  his  empire  in  the  art  of  war.  Not 
many  Schuberts;  some,  however.  Poets  are  plen- 
tiful as  stars  in  the  evening,  and  perhaps  Shakspere 
approaches  loneliness  the  nearest;  but  the  gap  be- 
tween Shakspere  and  Milton  is  finite,  while  'twixt 
Jesus  and  His  nearest  rival  the  sweep  is  infinite.  Of 
Jesus  alone  can  it  be  said  that  He  had  absolutely  no 
competitor.  He  is  the  peerless  Christ.  This  is  the 
unique  glory  of  the  Virgin's  Son — His  aloneness. 
There  have  been  other  sacred  singers — Seneca,  Con- 
fucius, Zoroaster;  but  they  are  twittering  sparrows  to 
the  lark.  Here  is  Socrates  and  Buddha  and  Marcus 
Aurelius,  but  how  they  dwindle  in  the  measurement! 
"What  prepossession,"  said  Rousseau,  ''to  compare 
the  son  of  Sophroniscus  with  the  Son  of  Mary !  What 
an  infinite  disproportion!"  Scripture  has  a  gallery 
of  worthies — Enoch,  Abraham,  David,  Paul — what 
a  roll  call  of  immortals !  Yet  one  thing  is  common  to 
them  all.  They  are  all  concluded  under  sin,  and  all 
are  penitent  for  sin.  Jesus  alone  is  sinless.  In  Him 
all  graces  meet,  as  all  colors  melt  into  the  white  solar 
ray.  We  do  not  see  the  several  colors  because  they 
are  so  blended.  His  is  the  full  action  of  a  perfect 
nattire. 

THE    MINISTERING    CHRIST. 

3.  Ministry.  Whether  we  measure  Christ  by  the 
shadow  He  has  cast  upon  each  century  or  by  the  light 


CHRIST-LIFE.  95 

He  has  thrown  across  it,  He  is  equally  great.  He 
called  Himself  the  light  of  the  world.  It  takes  light 
to  create  shadow,  and  the  greatest  shadow  is  the 
shadow  of  Himself — the  Cross. 

Certainly  more  hearts  have  been  touched  by  the 
shadow  than  the  brightness.  The  death  of  Jesus  is 
the  divine  center  of  Christianity,  the  culmination  of 
His  ministry,  and  the  controlling  chapter  of  the 
Gospel  story.  Of  Tissot's  365  paintings,  310  are  on 
the  ministry  and  passion.  "I,  if  I  be  lifted  up  from 
the  earth,  will  draw  all  men  unto  Me."  "His  suffer- 
ings," says  Renan,  "will  melt  the  noblest  hearts  until 
the  end  of  time."  A  theory  is  only  powerful  when  a 
heart  stands  behind  it  and  fills  it  with  its  life,  as  the 
reseiVoir  lives  behind  the  faucet,  as  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains live  behind  the  Mississippi. 

If  He  was  the  model  preacher,  He  was  also  the 
model  pastor.  Da  Vinci  paints  Him  a  man  burdened 
with  sorrow,  but  when  the  true  artist  arises  he  will 
figure  a  ministering  Christ.  "  He  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister."  It  is  claimed 
that  Tintoret  approaches  nearest  to  that  ideal.  Im- 
possible to  discover  a  single  selfish  action  in  His  whole 
unparalleled  career;  so  self- forgetful  was  He.  His 
love  was  mingled  with  pity.  When  He  saw  the  mul- 
titude He  was  moved  with  passion  and  compassion. 
He  went  about  doing  good.  He  was  brother  to  the 
beggar.  He  never  gave  a  thought  to  His  own  phys- 
ical ease.  He  never  performed  a  miracle  for  His  own 
comfort.  He  could  have  turned  stones  into  bread, 
and  yet  He  hungered.  His  ministry  was  so  manifold 
that  there  was  no  phase  of  life  it  did  not  reach.  He 
went  to  the  homes  of  the  poor  and  the  haunts  of  the 


96  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

outcast,  helping  and  healing.  He  never  cloistered 
Himself.  He  lived  in  the  open.  He  ministered  to 
human  tear  by  human  touch.  Truly  man  never 
spake  like  this  man,  nor  did  Man  ever  live  like  Him. 
His  parables  He  first  spoke,  then  acted.  "He  came 
to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost." 

The  greatest  are  those  who  serve.  Ever  since,  this 
has  become  the  foundation  of  all  true  chivalry.  Here 
is  Antigone  dying  rather  than  desert  the  body  of  her 
dead  brother.  Here  is  George  Atley,  a  young 
Englishman  in  the  Central  African  Mission,  with  the 
instincts  and  heart  of  a  hero.  The  story  came  to  us 
last  year  of  his  being  attacked  by  a  party  of  natives. 
He  had  with  him  a  Winchester  repeating  rifle  with 
ten  chambers  loaded ;  he  had  the  party  completely  at 
his  mercy.  Calmly  and  coolly  he  summed  up  the 
situation,  and  finally  concluded  that  if  he  killed  them 
he  would  do  more  harm  to  the  mission  than  were  he  to 
let  them  take  his  own  life.  So  as  a  lamb  to  the 
slaughter  he  was  led,  and  when  his  dead  body  was 
found  in  the  stream,  his  rifle  was  also  found,  its  ten 
chambers  untouched. 

Here  is  a  young  doctor  dying  recently  in  one  of  our 
hospitals.  In  a  case  of  malignant  diphtheria  it 
became  necessary  to  clear  the  throat  of  the  sufferer 
by  suction.  He  knew  the  outcome  of  the  experiment ; 
yet  in  the  interest  of  science  and  suffering  he  volun- 
teered, and  saved  a  life  by  the  sacrifice  of  his  own. 

And  what  shall  we  more  say?  Time  would  fail  us 
to  tell  of  the  Patons  and  Pattesons,  the  Allan  Gard- 
ners and  Wilberforces,  the  Goughs  and  Willards. 
Long  the  scroll  of  the  self-sacrificing  engineers  and 
captains  and  heroes  unlettered,  who  did  their  duty  in 


CHRIST-LIFE.  97 

the  "scorn  of  consequences."  Who  are  the  true 
Garibaldis  and  Garrisons  and  Grace  Darlings  of  earth  ? 
Sons  and  daughters  of  ministry  are  they  all.  Rubens 
never  painted  a  picture  like  the  career  of  Florence 
Nightingale.  No  Handel  ever  composed  an  oratorio 
like  the  career  of  John  Howard.  The  Napoleons  and 
Caesars  of  earth  have  been  murderers,  not  ministers. 
They  soaked  the  soil  with  the  blood  of  their  brothers, 
but  they  never  shed  their  own  blood.  Joseph  Mazzini 
was  a  true  hero.  He  shed  his  own  blood.  Father 
Damien  was  a  true  hero.  He  shed  his  own  blood. 
Abraham  Lincoln  was  a  true  hero.  He  shed  his  own 
blood.  But  if  the  greatness  of  these  worthies  is  only 
reflected  greatness,  their  love  is  only  reflected  love. 

Let  us,  then,  hear  the  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter.  Criticism  and  culture  throne  the  Christ  pre- 
eminent. Now  abide  His  mind,  His  morals  and  His 
ministry — these  three.  He  is  supreme  in  all,  but  the 
greatest  of  these  is  His  ministry.  He  is  the  great 
theme  of  the  pulpit.  He  remains  the  "  chief  est  among 
ten  thousand  and  the  altogether  lovely."  "If 
Shakspere  were  to  enter  this  room,"  said  Charles 
Lamb,  "I  would  rise  up  to  do  him  honor;  but  if 
Jesus  Christ  w^ere  to  enter,  I  would  fall  down  in  wor- 
ship and  adore. "  The  old  legend  tells  of  the  god 
imprisoned  in  the  tree.  Whoever  cut  the  tree 
wounded  the  god.  Ofttimes  in  our  preaching  we 
feel  we  have  been  mutilating  His  glory.  But  take  no 
thought.  That  were  impossible.  The  subject  is  too 
lovely  to  be  marred,  too  rich  to  be  impoverished.  No 
man  can  rob  the  Matterhom  of  its  majesty.  Eighteen 
hundred  years  of  infidel  distortion  have  not  served  to 
fade  the  immortal  features.     They  are  lovelier  than 


98  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

ever;  Voltaire  said  that  he  would  pass  through  the 
forest  of  Scripture  and  girdle  all  the  trees,  so  that  in 
one  hundred  years  not  a  limb  would  be  left  to  fence 
the  sacred  enclosure  from  profanity.  But  the  one 
hundred  years  are  gone,  and  not  a  leaf  hath  withered, 
and  still  the  trunks  are  full  of  sap.  We  know  Him  no 
more  after  the  flesh,  and  yet  His  glory  lingers  on  the 
mountain  tops  and  loathes  to  leave. 

But  there  are  some  in  whose  eyes  He  hath  no 
beauty.  He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men.  Think 
it  not  strange.  There  are  some  in  whose  eyes  the 
sunset  hath  no  beauty.  But  He  shall  see  of  the 
travail  of  His  soul,  and  shall  be  satisfied.  Not  in 
vain  was  He  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  and 
bruised  for  our  iniquities.  With  His  stripes  we  have 
been  healed  and  reconciled  to  God.  "  For  He  is  the 
head  of  the  body,  the  church,  who  is  the  beginning, 
the  firstborn  from  the  dead,  that  in  all  things  He 
might  have  the  pre-eminence. " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HARMONY  WITH  THE  CHRIST-PITY. 

"  When  He  saw  the  multitude  He  was  moved  with  pity."  Matt. 
9:36. 

"Put  on,  therefore,  as  the  elect  of  God,  holy  and  beloved,  a 
heart  full  of  pity."     Col.  3:12. 

"  Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children.     Psalm  103 :13. 

Turning  over  the  pages  of  the  Christ-teaching,  how 
wonderful,  how  summery,  is  the  picture  of  God!  He 
is  our  Father,  waiting  on  bird  and  beast;  caring  for 
lily  and  sparrow;  with  tears  for  the  under-man;  not 
breaking  the  bruised  reed ;  not  quenching  the  smoking 
flax;  covering  us  with  His  feathers;  with  a  great,  big, 
bursting  human  heart  of  pity  for  life's  unfortunate 
children. 

How  partial  any  paraphrase  of  ours  must  be  of  the 
great  world-Shepherd!  Photographers  tell  us  that 
these  mountains  round  about  are  too  large  for  their 
camera-plates.  Compelled  are  they  to  take  Baldy  and 
Greyback  and  San- Jacinto  in  sections.  Thus,  God  is 
too  big  for  definition,  too  far  away  for  perfect  imprint. 

So  we  turn  to  something  tender;  turn  our  kodak  on 
the  foot  hills,  as  it  were,  with  their  warmth  and 
greenery. 

"When  He  saw  the  multitude  He  was  moved  with  pity." 
"Put  on,  therefore,  as  the  elect  of  God,  holy  and  beloved, 
a  heart  full  of  pity." 

"Like  as  a  father  pitieth  his  children." 

"  Pity, "  says  J.  F.  Clarke,  "  lies  at  the  core  of  all  the 
great  religions. "     The  chapters  of  the  Koran,  all  of 

(99) 


loo  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

them,  begin  with  these  words:  "In  the  name  of  God, 
the  compassionate,  the  merciful. "  The  vast  reHgion 
of  Buddha  numbers  fivehundredmillion  votaries,  and 
pity  is  the  key-note  to  it  all. 

KINDNESS  TO  ANIMALS. 

Let  us  first  speak  a  word  on  behalf  of  the  brute 
world. 

That  was  rather  a  startling  charge  brought  against 
us  Christians  at  the  Parliament  of  Religions,  some 
years  ago,  by  the  Brahmins  and  Buddhists  present, 
when  they  said : 

**  You  Christians  are  cruel  to  animals.  " 

Such  sport  as  we  witnessed  once  in  a  little  Western 
village  cannot  soon  be  lost  to  memory,  when  twelve 
poor,  helpless  rabbits  were  let  loose  and  hounded — 
their  limbs  dismembered  and  torn  apart,  their  flesh 
hacked  into  pieces  and  tossed  hither  and  thither  by 
the  dogs,  while  cowardly  oaths  and  cheers  filled  the 
air  with  blasphemy. 

Some  one  says  there  were  no  wild  beasts  until  there 
were  wild  men.  Fallen  man  becomes  a  savage,  and 
asks  for  a  gun.  He  would  civilize  with  shot  and 
powder.  He  would  be  cruel  to  his  own  horse;  his 
own  dog  he  would  starve.  Even  the  little  feathered 
songsters  of  the  forest  flee  with  trembling  when  man 
comes  near.  The  poet  sings  of  man's  inhumanity  to 
man.  Alas,  too,  for  man's  inhumanity  to  brutes 
and  birds ! 

There  is  a  bird  called  the  white  heron,  that  has  its 
habitat  along  the  coast  of  Florida.  There  birds  have 
beautiful  white  feathers,  known  in  milliners'  shops  as 
aigrette  plumes.     Artistic  and  admirable  are  they, 


CHRIST-PITY.  loi 

did  we  not  know  how  they  are  obtained ;  for  at  breed- 
ing time  the  parent-birds  are  shot  down  in  their  nests, 
and  while  the  body  of  the  mother  is  left  to  rot  in  the 
sun,  the  little  brood  of  young  herons  is  left  to  starve  in 
the  nest.  It  is  not  many  months  ago  that  we  read  of  a 
New  York  merchant  boasting  that  in  one  season  his 
men  had  killed  150,000  birds  for  millinery  purposes 
along  the  coast  of  Florida,  the  result  being  that  the 
white  heron  is  now  almost  exterminated. 

Passing  strange  and  wonderful,  how  the  hand  and 
heart  of  man  seem  to  delight  in  the  inflicting  of  pain! 
Our  wonder  grows  apace  when  we  remember  that 
man  likes  to  tease  and  torture  himself  so  little.  Boys 
pin  insects  to  the  floor,  pull  wings  from  flies,  and 
mutilate  fowls  and  fishes.  Not  a  sparrow  falls  to  the 
ground  without  our  Father's  notice,  but  for  sport 
older  boys — grey-headed  ones — will  wound  and  lacer- 
ate these  innocent  little  chirpers.  For  the  sake  of 
science,  thousands  of  animals  are  yearly  taken  into 
each  laboratory,  laid  on  a  table  of  torment,  and 
slowly  poisoned  by  some  inoculating  virus.  For  the 
lust  of  land,  nations  will  revel  in  the  sickening  cruelties 
of  war,  and  look  with  complacency  on  their  brother 
man  in  pain.  Yet  all  the  while  the  voice  divine  keeps 
whispering  to  each  ruthless  persecutor,  **Be  ye  kind 
one  to  another,  tender  hearted, "  pointing  anon  to  that 
glad  time  when  the  wolf  shall  lie  down  with  the  lamb, 
the  leopard  with  the  kid;  when  the  calf  and  fatling 
and  young  lion  shall  walk  together,  and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them;  there  being  nothing  to  hurt  or 
destroy  in  all  God's  holy  mountain. 

"  If  a  man  love  not  his  brother  whom  he  hath  seen, 
how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath  not  seen?"     It 


102  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

does  not  stir  our  wonder  over-much  that  those  who 
are  pitiless  and  without  feehng  toward  God's  innocent 
creatures  of  the  field  and  forest,  should  be  hard  and 
unrelenting  likewise  toward  their  fellow-toilers  on  the 
street  and  in  the  home. 

When  a  statesman  was  once  asked  how  the  poor 
people  were  to  live  through  a  famine,  he  replied : 

"  To with  the  people ;  let  them  eat  grass.  " 

When  Marie  Antoinette  was  riding  to  her  betrothal 
in  Notre  Dame,  she  ordered  all  beggars,  cripples,  and 
paupers  from  the  line  of  march.  She  would  not  have 
even  a  glimpse  of  misery's  children.  Even  a  man  as 
great  as  Edmund  Burke,  referring  to  the  manner  in 
which  this  selfish  woman  was  afterwards  treated, 
speaks  of  the  ** swinish  multitude."  When  Prince 
Mettemich,  the  Austrian  diplomat,  once  told  Napo- 
leon that  his  scheme  would  cost  the  lives  of  100,000 
men.  Napoleon  laughed : 

"  100,000  men!  what  are  100,000  men  tome?" 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson  once  crossed  the  Atlantic 
in  the  steerage  of  an  ocean  liner.  Although  the  most 
considerable  passenger  aboard,  he  went  in  the  steerage 
from  choice,  not  necessity.  In  his  story,  "The 
Amateur  Emigrant, "  he  describes  for  us  what  he  saw. 
He  saw  a  supercilious  parade  of  wealth  that  grieved 
him,  an  insolence  that  enraged  him. 

Recently  it  was  my  privilege  to  converse  with  a 
manufacturer  of  note.  Standing  at  the  window  of  his 
office,  he  watched  his  workingmen  coming  out  of  the 
mill  and  hastening  to  their  noon-day  meal. 

"A  lot  of  animals, "  he  gruffly  remarked;  "only  by 
holding  the  whip  over  them  can  I  get  anything  out  of 
them.     I  treat  them  like  animals. " 


CHRIST-PITY.  103 

Contrariwise,  here  is  John  Brown,  his  body  pierced 
with  bullets,  stooping  to  kiss  the  little  colored  lad  on 
his  way  to  the  gallows. 

Here  is  Livingstone  found  dead  on  his  knees  in 
prayer  in  the  heart  of  Africa,  with  that  great  craggy 
head  tipped  over  resting  on  his  open  Bible,  and  his 
finger  pointing  to  the  last  words  he  ever  penned  in  his 
diary : 

"Oh,  God,  when  will  the  open  sore  of  the  world 
be  healed?" 

Here  is  Mrs.  Booth.  When  first  she  went  to  Shef- 
field, it  seemed  as  though  the  angry  mob  hurled  every 
foul  epithet  at  her.  They  cursed  her,  egged  her, 
howled  at  her  like  drunken  demons,  silenced  her  in  the 
middle  of  her  story.  She  stood  before  them  on  the 
platform  and  burst  into  tears,  and  just  said: 

"  My  dear  friends,  I  love  you.  " 

Here  is  Lord  Shaftesbury.  A  little  before  his 
death,  Miss  Cobb  wrote  him  a  letter,  asking  what  it 
could  have  been  that  ever  tempted  him  from  the 
society  of  royalty  to  be  the  knight-errant  of  the  poor. 
The  answer  he  gave  was  never  published  till  after  his 
death.  He  said  that  when  a  lad  of  ten  or  twelve,  he 
was  sored  to  see  that  nearly  all  the  aristocratic  boys 
with  whom  he  played  looked  down  on  the  poorer 
children  and  taunted  them. 

Here  is  John  Ruskin,  heir  to  a  million  dollars  and 
with  his  pen  earning  a  million  more — the  first  prose 
writer  of  the  century,  world-famous  as  an  author  at 
twenty-one.  Court  and  college  strove  to  banquet 
and  do  him  reverence.  No  door  of  privilege  but 
swung  wide  open  to  his  gentlest  knock.  Walking 
through  Whitechapel  one  day,  he  saw  sights  that 


I04  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

made  his  heart  sick.  He  saw  every  brick  discharging 
matter.  He  saw  anarchy  rampant,  and  hell  let  loose. 
No  blade  of  grass,  no  park,  no  herb,  no  shrub,  no 
flower,  no  marble,  no  book,  no  picture.  When  he 
saw  the  degradation  he  was  moved. 

In  that  hour  East  London  seemed  to  him  like  some 
earthly  inferno  whose  smothered  Macedonian  sob  was 
crying  out:  ''Won't  you  come  and  help  us?"  To 
this  place  John  Ruskin  felt  he  must  go.  He  founded 
museums,  clubs,  schools,  charities.  He  gave  them 
his  paintings,  curios,  books,  art- treasures.  Weekly 
he  went  thither  to  give  them  himself. 

One  day  on  his  weekly  visits  there  was  a  beggar  on 
the  comer  who  asked  of  him  daily  an  alms,  and  who 
never  had  been  refused.  This  day  the  grateful  beg- 
gar suddenly  caught  the  outstretched  hand  and 
kissed  it.  Mr.  Ruskin,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  bent 
forward  and  kissed  the  beggar's  cheek.  Next  morn- 
ing the  poor  fellow  came  to  his  lodgings  with  tears  in 
his  eyes,  bringing  a  gift. 

"Just  a  piece  of  brown  cloth,"  said  the  beggar, 
"from  the  robe  of  St.  Francis." 

This  relic  Ruskin  cherished  through  life,  thinking 
it  more  beautiful  than  anything  Turner  ever  drew. 

A  story  of  Henry  Ward  Beecher  at  his  last  service 
in  Plymouth  Church  is  vouched  for  by  the  choir.  It 
was  the  last  sermon  he  ever  preached.  Coming  down 
from  his  pulpit  after  the  great  congregation  had 
scattered,  he  felt  tired  and  weary.  He  saw  two  little 
ragged  street  waifs  far  back  in  the  rear.  Passing  the 
door,  they  had  heard  the  choir  rehearsing,  and  tim- 
orously wandered  in.  The  piece  they  were  singing 
was:  "I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say.*!    The  great 


CHRIST-PITY.  105 

man  walked  down  the  aisle,  put  his  arm  round  each 
little  waif,  stooped  down  and  kissed  them  tenderly, 
then  walked  out  into  the  street,  leaving  that  great 
arena  of  his  triumphs  forever.  How  beautiful!  The 
great,  big-hearted  genius  loving  the  little  beggars. 

And  what  shall  we  say  more?  Here  lastly  is  Jesus. 
When  He  saw  the  multitude  He  was  moved.  He 
chose  for  His  earthly  home  the  place  where  were  the 
multitudes.  Wherever  He  went  He  saw  that  sea  of 
swelling,  surging  life,  that  ceaseless  pour,  that  noisy, 
restless  flow  of  faces.  It  appealed  to  Him.  He  saw 
the  crowd,  and  the  depth  of  His  being  was  stirred. 
Dr.  Morton,  a  Boston  dentist,  discovered  anaesthesia 
in  1846.  The  other  day,  in  London,  the  jubilee  of 
this  blessed  boon  to  mankind  was  signalized.  It 
seemed  to  be  the  conviction  of  the  great  company  of 
medical  experts  present  that  the  human  body  is 
becoming  increasingly  sensitive  to  pain.  How  ex- 
quisitively  sensitive  our  Master  was!  How  keenly 
He  could  feel!  How  easily  shrink!  How  alive  in 
every  nerve  of  His  nature!  His  surely  was  the  most 
impressive  spirit  that  ever  felt  life's  pathos. 

Strauss  was  so  touched  by  our  Lord's  tenderness 
that  George  Elliot  said  she  could  not  do  justice  to 
translating  the  pages  of  the  great  German  critic 
without  having  the  crucifix  before  her. 

Ah,  beloved,  we  may  call  ourselves  disciples  of  the 
Master;  but  if  we  are  insolent  toward  the  lowly, 
high-minded  toward  the  humble  ones,  we  are  not 
His  disciples.     He  will  not,  cannot  own  us. 

Ours  is  an  age  that  worships  intellect.  Many  of 
you  have  seen  Delaroche's  immortal  oil  painting  in 
the  French  Academy.     He  grouped  around  a  marble 


io6  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

chair  of  state  the  master  minds  of  all  ages — artists, 
architects,  sculptors,  thinkers,  inventors,  statesmen, 
scientists.  He  puts  intellect  on  the  throne.  The 
great  hearts  of  the  world  are  crowded  out.  Shaks- 
pere  is  there,  Homer  is  there,  Newton  is  there. 
La  Place  is  there;  but  the  John  Howards  and  David 
Livingstones  and  Florence  Nightingales  of  earth  are 
not  there.  For  in  Delaroche's  estimate  heart  had 
no  right  to  a  niche  in  the  Temple  of  Fame. 

How  different  that  scene  in  the  Gospel  gallery, 
where  the  Lord  of  glory  is  seen  washing  the  disciples' 
feet,  and  teaching  that  the  greatest  are  they  who 
serve. 

Not  that  our  faith  belittles  brain.  It  refuses  to 
assign  to  it  the  first  place ;  that  is  all.  It  champions 
a  truthful  perspective.  Its  assault  is  on  the  heart. 
Salvation  means  salvation  of  the  heart;  any  other 
kind  of  salvation  were  mythological.  Let  the  head 
rule  the  heart,  and  you  have  the  Spanish  inquisition. 
Let  the  heart  rule  the  head,  and  you  have  the  Refor- 
mation. Head  without  heart  is  cold,  conventional 
— a  picture  without  color.  No  man  will  die  for  a 
truth  till  that  truth  twines  itself  around  the  tendril 
of  his  heart.  Erasmus  was  keener-witted  than 
Luther,  but  Luther  was  bigger-hearted,  and  Luther, 
not  Erasmus,  did  the  work.  Daniel  Webster  had  a 
mightier  brain  than  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe,  but 
Daniel  Webster  stood  for  slavery.  It  has  been  said 
that  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  did  more  to  sweep  the 
slave  curse  from  our  beloved  land  than  all  the  intel- 
lects in  Congress.  The  seal  of  Whitfield  had  for  its 
device  a  winged  heart  soaring  above  the  stars.  Jenny 
Lind  captivated  the  multitudes  because  her  heart 


CHRIST-PITY.  107 

was  sweeter  than  her  voice.  Once  Ruskin  and 
Carlyle  were  discussing  the  literature  of  their  day. 

"Why  is  it,"  said  Carlyle,  *'that  Emerson  and 
yourself  scarcely  pay  for  the  cost  of  publishing, 
while  trashy  novels  run  up  into  the  hundred  thou- 
sands?" 

Ruskin  thought  for  a  little,  then  answered: 

"Because  the  novel  has  love  in  it." 

Surely  it  is  so.  Man  is  not  complete  until  some 
great  love  possesses  him.  Love  lifts  the  tired  feet 
forward  and  lends  wings.  Love  levels  the  hills, 
tunnels  the  mountains,  shortens  the  journey  along 
which  duty  calls,  cuts  a  foot-path  through  the  forest. 
No  man  can  be  great  who  is  not  tender-hearted.  He 
may  be  a  great  fighter  like  Alexander,  or  a  great  bear 
like  Carlyle,  but  not  a  great  man.  A  great  man  is  a 
man  easily  touched.  He  is  not  the  best  general  who 
has  a  thirst  for  blood.  He  is  the  best  general  who 
is  the  most  humane. 

Many  there  are  to-day  who  steel  themselves  against 
the  tender  in  religion.  They  love  to  hear  an  intel- 
lectual discourse,  they  tell  us.  But  the  appeal  that 
moves  and  melts  they  stifle  and  suppress.  They 
regard  it  as  a  synonym  for  weakness.  If  men  feel 
thus,  not  so  God.  His  message  is  nothing  if  not 
tender;  the  old,  old  story  of  the  Gospel  is  full  of  tears. 
Woe  to  the  man  who  never  weeps!  Unworthy  the 
man  who  glories  in  it.  Heroes  have  always  wept, 
from  the  giants  that  stride  through  Homer's  lines 
down  to  Grant  and  Farragut  and  Abraham  Lincoln. 
The  man  who  thinks  it  weak  to  sob  in  the  presence  of 
sorrow  is  not  the  child  of  strength  or  greatness.  We 
pity  people  born  deformed  in  body,  the  man  with  a 


io8  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

club  foot,  him  of  the  withered  arm.  Shall  we  have  no 
sympathy  for  the  man  with  withered  morals,  for  the 
pathos  of  life,  its  sadness,  its  anguish,  its  sins? 

Sin  it  was  that  necessitated  Calvary.  In  Geth- 
semane  I  see  my  Saviour  sweating  blood-drops  for  the 
sin  of  the  world.  On  Calvary  I  see  Him  wrestling 
with  the  enemy,  and  pouring  out  His  life.  Has  that 
no  appeal  for  my  heart  ?  When  He  looked  down  upon 
the  multitude,  He  wept.  He  saw  them  as  sheep 
not  having  a  shepherd.  He  wept  over  their  hardness, 
their  unbelief,  their  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  their  own 
eternal  welfare.  He  wept  when  He  thought  of  what 
they  were  missing.  Never  did  He  weep  for  Himself. 
No  nails  driven  in  His  hands  or  feet  ever  started  a  sigh. 
When  man  denied  Him,  betrayed  Him,  mocked  Him, 
spat  upon  Him,  crucified  Him,  He  did  not  weep;  but 
when  He  came  nigh  unto  Jerusalem,  that  wicked  city. 
He  burst  out  into  tears : 

"Oh,  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  thou  that  killest  the 
prophets,  and  stonest  them  which  are  sent  unto  thee, 
how  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children 
together  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens  under  her 
wings,  but  ye  would  not !  " 

He  weeps  over  you,  this  morning,  sinner.  He  weeps 
over  your  hard,  cold  indifference.  He  weeps  because 
you  reject  His  overtures  of  love.  "  You  will  not  come 
unto  Me,  that  you  might  have  life !  " 

Let  us  note,  lastly,  that  love  is  never  at  its  highest 
till  it  is  mingled  with  pity. 

Balzac  has  driven  home  this  truth  with  a  story. 
He  brings  us  back  to  an  old  Flemish  mansion  in  the 
year  1812,  where  a  woman,  Josephine  by  name,  was 
sitting  in  a  deep  arm  chair  one  evening,  looking  out 


CHRIST-PITY.  109 

upon  the  garden.  She  was  hard-featured ;  she  was 
plain.  Her  thick,  black  hair  fell  in  heavy  curls  upon 
her  shoulders.  Her  forehead,  very  prominent  and 
narrow  at  the  temples,  was  yellow  in  tint.  Her  face, 
Spanish  in  type,  was  dark-skinned,  and  pitted  with 
the  small-pox.  Hot  tears  were  rolling  from  her  eyes. 
The  nose,  aquiline  as  the  beak  of  an  eagle,  gave  the 
impression  of  some  interior  malformation.  The  lip 
was  large  and  curved,  yet  betraying  the  pride  of  noble 
birth.  Yes,  she  was  ordinary,  that  was  clear;  and 
still  the  worst  is  not  told,  for  she  was  both  lame  and 
deformed.  She  belonged  to  one  of  the  illustrious  fam- 
ilies of  Belgium,  but  she  had  renounced  her  share  of 
her  father's  property  to  enable  her  brother  to  make  a 
marriage  worthy  of  the  name,  for  she  never  expected 
to  marry  herself,  being  weighted  down  by  a  sense  of 
physical  disfigurement. 

And  now  the  rich  nobleman,  Balthazar,  appears 
and  wishes  to  wed  her;  but  her  poverty  and  his 
wealth,  her  deformity  and  his  handsome  physique, 
make  her  distrustful.  The  sense  of  her  admitted 
imperfections  made  her  difficult  to  win  as  the  most 
beautiful  of  women.  The  fear  of  some  day  displeasing 
the  eye  of  her  lover  roused  her  pride.  She  asked 
herself  if  Balthazar  were  not  playing  with  her;  were 
not  seeking  a  domestic  slave ;  whether  he  had  himself 
no  secret  defect  to  be  satisfied  with  a  poor,  ill-favored 
girl  who  had  nothing  to  offer  him.  It  would  need  a 
volume,  the  novelist  goes  on  to  say,  to  paint  the  love 
of  a  young  girl  humbly  submissive  to  the  verdict  of  a 
world  that  calls  her  plain.  It  involves  fierce  jealousy 
of  happiness,  freaks  of  cruel  vengeance  against  some 
fancied  rival,  that  exaltation  of  heart  which  the  face 


no  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

must  not  betray,  the  fear  that  we  may  not  be  under- 
stood, and  the  boundless  joy  of  being  so;  for  ugliness 
hath  no  charm.  A  beautiful  woman  can  be  her 
natural  self,  the  world  overlooks  her  little  foibles ;  but 
a  single  glance  can  check  the  noblest  expression  on  the 
lips  of  a  homely  creature,  give  timidity  to  the  eye  and 
awkwardness  to  her  carriage. 

Often,  to  test  his  love,  she  refused  to  wear  the 
draperies  that  partially  concealed  her  deformities,  and 
her  Spanish  eyes  fairly  danced  when  she  saw  that 
Balthazar  thought  her  beautiful  as  before.  The  glory 
of  our  humanity  is  to  be  adored  for  an  imperfection. 
Not  to  observe  a  woman's  deformity  may  be  human, 
but  to  love  her  because  she  is  deformed,  that  surely  is 
divine.  What  is  that  beautiful  thought  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher?  **  Of  all  the  paths  that  lead  to  woman's 
heart,  pity  is  the  strongest."  There  are  those  who 
are  loved  for  their  beauty,  as  there  are  those  who  are 
married  for  their  money.  But  love  bestowed  upon 
life's  disinherited  children,  verily  that  must  be  the 
mysterious  passion,  the  perfect  flower  of  heaven. 

And  this  is  the  sermon  that  Balzac's  story  preaches 
with  such  splendid  effect,  that  love  is  only  perfect 
when  mingled  with  pity.  This  is  our  Heavenly 
Father's  love.  "He  saw  us  ruined  in  the  fall,  yet 
loved  us  notwithstanding  all."  "Like  as  a  father 
pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear 
Him.  For  He  knoweth  our  frame;  He  remembereth 
that  we  are  dust. " 

Oh,  mother,  dear,  why  do  you  waste  such  love  on 
that  poor  child?  Do  you  not  see  that  he  is  a  cripple, 
has  curvature  of  the  spine,  always  will  be  a  cripple? 
See  the  little  fellow  creeping  on  his  hands  and  knees! 


CHRIST-PITY.  Ill 

The  doctor  says  he  can  never  be  strong;  always  will 
be  a  source  of  anxiety  to  you;  most  likely  never  will 
be  able  to  walk.  Why  worry  so  over  him?  What 
good  will  he  ever  be  ? 

Ah,  if  you  spoke  thus,  she  would  give  you  a  look  that 
would  shrivel  you. 

"  My  silent  boy,  I  hold  thee  to  my  breast. 

Just  as  I  did  when  thou  wast  newly  bom. 
It  may  be  sinful,  but  I  love  thee  best, 

And  kiss  thy  lips  the  longest  night  and  mom. 
Oh,  thou  art  dear  to  me  beyond  all  others, 

And  when  I  breathe  my  trust  and  bend  my  knee 
For  blessing  on  thy  sisters  and  thy  brothers, 

God  seems  the  nighest  when  I  pray  for  thee." 

Such,  dear  reader,  is  God's  love  for  us — His  poor 
sin-crippled  children. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HARMONY  AND  COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP. 

"  Why  is  the  house  of  God  forsaken?     Neh.  13 :11. 
"Not    forsaking  the    assembling  of    ourselves  together,   as 
the  manner  of  some  is."     Heb.  10  25. 

Two  voices  from  long-ago! 

Back,  far  away  in  the  twilight  of  History,  the 
prophet  seeth  the  forlorn  condition  of  his  people  now 
returning  from  exile,  and  moumeth  the  fact  that  the 
temple  of  worship  was  being  deserted;  while  many 
centuries  later  the  writer  to  the  Hebrews  takes  up  a 
like  lament,  wameth  his  readers  against  a  similar 
neglect,  provoking  them  conjointly  to  love  and  good 
works  and  the  duty  of  public  assembling. 

Herein  is  surely  found  a  danger-lesson  for  us.  For 
it  were  so  patent  on  the  very  face  as  to  seem  scarcely 
needing  of  proof,  that  the  sanctuary  to-day  is  being 
abandoned,  that  church  attendance  is  on  the  wane, 
that  it  is  no  longer  *'  not  respectable  "  to  live  aloof,  but 
rather  that  some  of  the  most  honored,  upright  and 
reputable  of  our  citizens  are  stone  deaf  to  the  call  of 
church  chime  and  steeple,  that  in  our  large  cities  at 
least  three-fourths  of  our  voters  never  darken  the 
doorway  of  any  meeting  place  for  prayer  or  praise,  and 
that  from  one  end  of  our  beloved  land  to  the  other  the 
same  cry  is  heard:  "Why  is  the  house  of  God  for- 
saken ? "  The  church  to-day  has  lost  its  foregone  hold 
upon  men.  Altogether  is  that  statement  beyond  a 
doubt.  So  noticeable  is  the  lapse  as  scarcely  to  be 
entitled  to  serious  debate. 

(112) 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     113 

What  may  some  of  the  reasons  be  that  are  forth- 
coming in  answer  to  the  question  the  prophet  asks 
with  such  heaviness  of  heart? 

Many  there  be  who  find  explanation  within  the 
church  itself — charging  her,  as  at  present  organized, 
with  being  behind  the  times,  with  slavery  to  tradition, 
with  intellectual  iron-rule,  with  having  a  shivering 
dread  of  thinking,  with  emphasizing  doctrine  to  the 
discount  of  deed,  with  sermon  weakness  and  over- 
stress  of  the  emotional. 

These  are  not  uneducated  men.  Ofttimes  they  are 
educated  men,  men  of  sight  and  insight,  and  this  is  the 
result  of  their  honest  review.  On  the  other  side  they 
pass  by.  In  truth,  hardly  could  they  do  otherwise. 
Carrying  out  their  convictions  to  the  letter,  they  will 
not  ask  her  ministrations,  even  in  sorrow.  Having 
ignored  it  in  life,  to  be  consistent  they  should  ignore  it 
also  in  death;  and  compared  with  the  man  who  lives 
indifferently  and  apart,  and  yet  wishes  a  Christian 
burial,  men  of  that  type  the  church  rather  admires. 

A  large  company  there  is  who  have  forsaken  the 
church  because  they  claim  they  need  the  Sabbath  for 
rest  and  outdoor  diversion. 

"I  labor  all  the  week,"  the  clerk  says,  "in  an 
atmosphere  of  dust  and  impurity.  I  feel  the  need 
when  Sunday  comes,  for  fresher  vision,  for  purer  light ; 
a  breath  of  the  ocean  will  lift  me  higher  unto  things 
unseen.  What  need  for  a  building  made  with  hands, 
when  out  yonder  is  the  greater  building  not  made  with 
hands?  Can  I  not  find  God  in  the  wide  temple  of 
nature  on  the  mountain  top,  under  the  oak  tree,  by 
the  sea  shore,  where  the  mighty  Maker  is  the  organist, 


114  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

where  the  heaving  billows  are  the  bellows,  where  the 
sea  birds  are  the  choir? " 

And  time  would  fail  us  to  detail  the  varied  lesser 
reasons  that  have  estranged  so  many  from  the  sanc- 
tuary; that  the  poor  are  excluded  from  its  worship; 
that  the  clergy  are  the  servants  of  the  moneyed  class ; 
that  the  pew  rental  system  grades  the  people  and  robs 
the  service  of  its  spiritual  brotherhood  and  equality; 
that  the  pulpit  rings  not  with  a  genuine  note.  Many 
and  multiform  are  the  reasons  given  why  the  temple  of 
worship  is  being  forsaken. 

Excuses,  alas,  not  reasons!  For  it  doth  seem  that 
the  real  reason  is  rarely  confessed.  Ours  is  an  age  in 
which,  in  religious  matters,  men  hasten  to  shift  the 
real  issue ;  and  the  clear,  concurrent  testimony  of  our 
students  and  seers  to-day  sweeps  all  pretence  aside, 
leads  direct  to  the  inner  life,  and  points  to  the  skepti- 
cism of  a  materialistic  and  mammon- worshipping  age, 
which  has  changed  the  emphasis  from  Eternity  back  to 
Time,  as  the  root-cause  of  all  our  spiritual  unrest. 

It  is  the  purpose,  then,  of  this  chapter  to  introduce 
the  Gospel  message  by  hastening  to  note  that  for 
which  the  temple  of  prayer  forever  stands — immova- 
ble, impregnable. 

I.-^GOD. 

God  is  the  one  answer  of  every  human  want.  No 
age,  no  nation,  no  people,  but  has  some  time  uttered 
the  cry:  **  Oh,  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  Him! " 
Tribes  there  are  without  written  speech,  without  mar- 
riage, without  government-code ;  but  no  tribe  without 
its  deity.  Perhaps  it  is  a  deity  of  wood  or  stone  or 
tree  or  star  or  reptile;  a  deity,  may-be,  of  dead 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     115 

ancestors;  but  some  deity.  The  soul  of  humanity 
looks  Godward  as  easily,  as  naturally,  as  the  eagle- 
wing  soars  cloud  ward.  To  say  that  such  a  universal 
instinct  means  nothing  were  as  unreasonable  as  to  say 
that  the  lifting  of  the  vapor  from  the  river-depths 
means  nothing. 

The  belief  is  all  the  more  remarkable  when  we 
remember  that  it  runs  athwart  the  grain  of  life's 
natural  temper.  It  lays  a  tax  upon  the  time,  the 
talent,  the  opportunity,  the  possession,  the  outfit.  It 
asks  for  tithes,  temples,  pagodas,  sacrifices,  priests, 
idols,  graven  images,  golden  calves.  It  imposes  obli- 
gations men  do  not  care  to  meet.  Why  does  not  sober 
reason  rise  and  overturn  a  faith  that  is  distasteful? 
Because  the  faith  is  rooted  in  human  life.  To  tear  it 
out  would  tear  out  man's  humanity. 

In  the  early  years  of  the  past  century  there  arose  in 
France  a  most  remarkable  man.  Poor  was  he, 
inordinately  ambitious,  trained  to  hardship,  clothed 
with  exceptional  brain-power,  and  yet  withal  a  man  of 
toil,  indefatigable,  unceasing — Augustus  Comte.  He 
was  an  authority  on  astronomy,  political  economy, 
mathematics,  physics,  chemistry,  biology.  He  died 
in  1857,  and  to  this  day  the  anniversary  of  his  death  is 
celebrated  by  his  French  and  English  followers,  by 
such  men  as  John  Morley,  Frederic  Harrison,  and,  in 
her  day,  George  Elliot.  For  sheer  intellectual  grasp 
and  vigor,  Comte  ranks  with  Leibnitz  and  Descartes. 
Humboldt  was  one  of  his  admirers,  and  John  Stuart 
Mill  called  him  the  "most  wonderful  deep  sea  thinker 
since  the  age  of  Aristotle.  "  His  character  was  stern, 
inflexible,  but  pure,  high-minded,  and  with  an  iron 


ii6  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

devotion  to  what  he  considered  the  service  of  man- 
kind. 

He  was  the  founder  of  a  system  of  thought  called 
the  Positivist  School;  that  is,  nothing  is  to  be  accepted 
which  cannot  be  proven  by  the  positive  agreement  of 
the  senses.  The  truths  of  religion,  like  the  facts  of 
science,  were  made  to  rest  on  certainty.  Thus  God 
was  swept  aside.  "  He  led  Him  to  the  confines  of  the 
universe  and  bowed  Him  out."  Religion  was  done 
away  with.  Bibles  were  knocked  down  with  ruthless 
and  fearful  iconoclasm.  Hard  it  is  to  believe,  and  yet 
the  fact  abides,  that  before  Augustus  Comte  died  he 
established  a  church  of  his  own,  with  its  calendar  of 
saints,  its  sacred  days,  its  catechism,  its  Sabbath,  its 
Bible,  its  God.  The  cathedral  mind  of  this  great  man 
had  bowed  the  Deity  out,  but  the  heart  insurrected 
and  rebelled. 

Surely  it  were  difficult  to  conceive  a  more  convinc- 
ing proof  that  God  is  grounded  in  human  life.  That  is 
the  witness  of  every  temple.  No  steeple  throughout 
the  land  but  points  the  heart  to  the  Unseen  One 
whose  throne  is  heaven,  whose  footstool  is  earth.  Day 
unto  day  the  church  spire  speaks,  and  night  unto 
night  it  showeth  knowledge.  With  steel  point  and  in 
starry  letter  it  writes  its  creed  across  the  breast  of 
night,  "I  believe  in  God  the  Father,  Almighty  Maker 
of  heaven  and  earth.  " 

II. — WORSHIP. 

The  Greeks  called  man  "anthropos,"  meaning  the 
upward-looking  one.  "Man  is  the  creature  of 
religious  instincts,  and  must  worship  something,"  is 
the  pronoimcement  of  Kant.     If  dogmatism  be  suf- 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     117 

ferable  anywhere,  surely  it  is  here,  for  man,  wherever 
found,  is  a  worshipful  creature,  capable  of  appreciating 
capable  of  admiring,  capable  of  extolling.  That 
outburst  of  the  soul,  that  rapture  and  rush  of  the 
emotions,  that  exclamation  in  the  presence  of  the 
picturesque,  that  is  the  natural  sentiment  of  worship. 
Education  and  study  exalt  it  into  a  culture;  revela- 
tion into  a  duty. 

This  power  of  appreciation  it  is  that  elevates  man 
and  places  him  on  the  heights.  That  which  lifts 
us  above  the  savage  is  the  capacity  to  admire,  and 
the  wider  the  range  of  one's  admirations  the  higher  the 
type  of  his  manhood.  He  who  can  enthuse  over  a 
sweet  song,  a  beautiful  landscape,  a  perfect  poem,  a 
noble  painting,  a  faultless  statue,  a  clever  mechanism, 
any  perfect  piece  of  art,  he,  we  say,  is  an  all  rounded 
character.  Turner,  standing  on  the  foothills  watch- 
ing the  sunset  tinting  the  Matterhorn,  bared  his  head, 
bended  his  knee.  He  spake  not,  for  voice  were  dumb, 
speech  irreverent.  He  who  can  discover  nothing  in 
the  gallery  of  beauty  to  kneel  before,  he  who  can  find 
in  the  temple  of  wisdom  nothing  more  to  learn,  he 
surely  asks  claim  on  our  long  suffering  and  pity. 

When  Rubenstein  was  in  this  country  some  years 
ago,  a  friend  took  him  to  hear  his  pastor  preach. 
Asked  the  following  Sabbath  if  he  cared  to  go  again, 
Rubenstein  replied: 

"Yes,  but  you  must  take  me  to  hear  a  man  who 
will  tempt  me  to  the  impossible." 

Rubenstein  felt  the  need  of  some  excellence  unat- 
tainable to  tone  up  his  jaded  nature.  Ideals  we  call 
them.  Ideals  each  true  life  must  have.  If  there 
were  no  God,  the  human  heart  must  make  One,  for 


ii8  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

where  there  is  no  vision  of  the  Infinite,  the  people 
perish.  Worship  is  a  true  soul-view  of  God;  rather 
is  it  a  soul-view  of  the  true  God.  It  is  the  highest 
admiration,  because  the  admiration  of  the  highest. 
Worship  is  worthship — a  confession  of  worth.  It  is 
a  reverential  upward-look.  It  is  the  attitude  of  the 
penitent  rising  and  turning  his  face  skyward.  Most 
truly  does  some  one  say  that  the  evil  of  atheism  is 
not  its  open  avowal  that  there  is  no  God,  but  rather 
its  silent  implication  that  nowhere  in  all  this  universe 
lives  one  greater,  wiser,  holier  than  itself.  The  evil 
of  atheism  is  its  monumental  self- deification. 

During  the  past  century  Renan  has  been  the 
acknowledged  leader  of  the  critical  school  in  France. 
Perhaps  he  had  as  little  innate  reverence  as  any 
scholar  of  his  time.  His  teaching  at  bottom  is 
atheistic.  In  the  preface  to  his  "Recollections"  he 
pens  these  words: 

"One  of  the  most  popular  legends  in  Brittany  is 
that  relating  to  an  imaginary  town  called  Is,  which 
is  supposed  to  have  been  swallowed  up  by  the  sea  at 
some  unknown  time.  There  are  several  places  along 
the  cost  which  are  pointed  out  as  the  site  of  this 
imaginary  city,  and  the  fishermen  have  many  strange 
tales  to  tell  of  it.  According  to  them,  the  tips  of  the 
spires  of  the  churches  may  be  seen  in  the  hollows  of 
the  waves  when  the  sea  is  rough,  while  during  a  calm 
the  music  of  the  bells  rises  above  the  waters.  I  often 
fancy  in  my  calmer  moments  that  I  have  at  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  a  city  of  Is,  with  its  bells  calling 
me  to  devotion.  At  times  I  stop  to  listen  to  these 
gentle  murmurings,  which  seem  to  come  from  hidden 
depths,  like  voices  from  another  world." 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     119 

Truly  a  wondrous  confession  for  the  great  French 
skeptic!  Underneath  the  cynical  thinking  and  prof- 
ligate life  of  this  wonderful  man,  the  voice  of  God 
was  clamoring  for  homage.  For  praise  and  honor 
are  claimed  by  Him  who  fiUeth  all  in  all. 

Surely  there  is  deep  need  in  our  land  to-day  for 
some  embankment  to  stem  the  tide  of  our  growing 
irreverence.     In   these   days   when   veneration,    like 
meditation,  is  becoming  a  lost  art,  what  hope  is  there 
for  America's  rising  youth  if  the  tabernacle  of  prayer 
becomes    empty    of    its    penitent    children?     When 
humbling  before  the   Most   High  is  set  at   naught, 
when  the  awful  holiness  of  Him  we  worship,  when 
the  voice  of  hosanna  and  the  principles  of  eternal 
truth  are  no  longer  heard  in  prayer  of  song  or  sermon, 
whither  then  shall  we  be  found  tending?     Is  it  pos- 
sible for  a  nation  to  become  godless?     That  is,  is  it 
possible  for  a  nation  to  lose  its  conception  of  the 
divine  hohness?     For  a  surety  this  is  not  a  little 
matter.     It  is  vital.     Bound  is  it  to  tell  in  society's 
forward  march.     The  church  is  the  shrine  of  God- 
reverence.     It  asks  the  youth  whose  garments  have 
been  soiled,  to  fall  forward  into  the  dust  and  cry: 
"Unworthy,    unclean!"     Thus,    by    the    grace    and 
power  of  Christ,  will  he  be  Hfted  and  rise  up  a  worthier, 
a  better  man;  "for  he  that  exalteth  himself  shall  be 
abased,  and  he  that  humble th  himself  shall  be  ex- 
alted." 

III.       HOLINESS. 

And  holiness  is  the  only  pledge  and  hope  of  the 
future  life,  for  the  church  is  the  perpetual  memorial 
to  that  life.     Godliness  is  to  be  the  church's  pole-star 


120  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

till  time  shall  be  no  more.  One  calls  it  the  "human 
life  of  God,"  as  that  life  was  faultlessly  enfleshed  in 
Jesus.  Righteousness,  holiness.  Godliness — this  is  to 
be  our  never-ageing  message.  The  church  stands  for 
the  most  vital  thing  in  life — the  art  of  teaching  men 
how  to  live.  On  creeds  and  articles  the  minds  of 
men  have  always  differed,  and  there  is  no  sure  evi- 
dence forthcoming  that  the  future  will  not  repeat  the 
past;  but  right  and  wrong  are  as  old  as  Orion  and  its 
nebula.  Right  will  never  lose  its  lustre ;  never  wrong 
its  shame.  Full  oft  and  repeatedly  we  hear  the 
criticism  made  that  the  church  is  narrow;  but  how 
otherwise  could  she  be?  Is  she  not  the  only  organi- 
zation in  the  world  to-day  that  stands  for  unflinching 
antagonism  to  wrong?  Her  battle  cry  must  ever  be 
hostility,  not  victory.  Victory  is  sure,  but  victory 
belongeth  unto  Him  for  whom  are  all  things  and  by 
whom  are  all  things.  To  us  pertains  the  warfare, 
and  "unconditional  surrender"  are  the  terms.  "If 
the  church  were  not,"  means  that  the  supremacy  of 
evil  would  be  unchallenged,  the  field  abandoned,  and 
Satan  have  his  own  wicked  swing. 

Thus  far  we  have  not  entered  on  the  disputable. 
So  many  are  the  immortal  verities  on  which  all  minds 
agree,  that  life  were  over-brief  to  exhaust  even  these, 
and  the  world  is  slowly  learning  that,  as  the  certain- 
ties are  more  than  sufficient  to  fill  Hfe's  hurrying 
hours,  fighting  and  quarreling  over  things  debatable 
is  time- waste,  sheer  and  simple.  God  and  worship 
and  right  living  are  not  problems  controvertible.  So 
how  honest-hearted,  fair-minded  business  men  can 
remain  stone-deaf  to  the  Macedonian  cry  the  church 
is  uttering  to-day,  were  passing  strange  and  puzzling. 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     121 

Recently  it  was  my  fortune  to  spend  a  day  with  a 
great  manufacturer  of  national  note.  Two  thousand 
five  hundred  men  has  he  in  his  employ.  Relating  the 
story  of  his  strict,  early  training,  he  told  me  how  he 
had  been  brought  up  on  porridge  and  the  shorter 
catechism.     Dropping  into  a  familiar  mood,  he  said: 

"I  haven't  been  to  church  for  eleven  years." 

Emboldened  by  his  freedom,  I  ventured  to  inquire 
how  he  spent  his  Sabbaths. 

"Well,"  he  answered,  "I  generally  play  a  game  of 
golf  on  Sabbath  morning,  sleep  on  Sabbath  after- 
noon, glance  over  a  magazine  Sabbath  evening,  retir- 
ing not  later  than  nine,  and  awaken  to  my  work 
Monday  morning,  fresh  as  an  athlete." 

Meanwhile  this  wealthy  magnate,  with  his  abound- 
ing influence,  with  two  thousand  five  hundred  work- 
ingmen  watching  his  every  movement,  with  five 
thousand  children  of  these  workingmen  growing  up 
around  him  to  repeat  his  example,  has  deserted  the 
faith  of  his  fathers,  left  the  village  preacher  and  a 
few  good  women  to  teach  these  children  in  the  Sab- 
bath school  the  commandments  of  safe  and  holy 
living,  not  dreaming  that  some  day  a  strike  may  be 
forthcoming,  when  these  very  boys  will  rise  up  in 
their  envy  to  burn  his  buildings,  tear  down  his  prop- 
erty, and  threaten  his  life.  For  the  church  to-day  is 
the  only  peace-pleading  tribune  between  the  rich  and 
poor.  Her  mission  is  to  heal  wounds,  to  pour  oil 
upon  troubled  waters,  to  proclaim  the  gospel  of 
brotherhood  and  good  will.  When  we  see  in  our 
literature  the  widening  spread  of  a  revolutionary 
socialism ;  when  we  mark  how  money  is  growing  year 
by  year  to  be  the  universal  monarch  of  men;  when 


122  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

we  see  how  ease,  which  usually  means  disease,  is 
eating  into  the  body  politic;  when  we  watch  realism 
wedging  its  way  into  the  realm  of  fiction;  when  we 
note  the  slavery  of  social  arrogance  and  the  lustful 
heartlessness  of  corporate  wealth;  when  we  see  the 
yawning  gulf  between  the  privileged  and  the  lowly 
deepening  each  year,  aye,  and  widening;  when  we 
study  the  drink  curse,  the  gambling,  the  lust,  the 
sins  of  a  violent  and  vulgar  nature,  those  of  a  soft 
and  sinuous  type;  and  then,  when  we  remember  that 
the  church  is  confessedly  the  only  intermediary,  the 
only  hope  of  our  American  society,  the  only  healing 
ointment  for  her  sores  and  bruises,  the  only  antidote 
to  her  sins — the  burden  is  laid  heavily  upon  our  hearts 
to  ask  how  it  is  that  patriotic,  country-loving  men 
can  so  easily  emancipate  themselves  from  the  great 
Christian  brotherhood  and  shirk  its  duties,  its  toil,  its 
labor,  its  support. 

Some  years  ago  Prof.  Henry  Rogers  wrote  a  book 
which  he  called  *'  The  Eclipse  of  Faith."  He  dreamed 
that  on  a  certain  morning  the  world  awoke  to  find 
that  the  Bible  had  been  absolutely  banished  from  it. 
Every  copy  of  every  Bible  in  every  tongue  had  dis- 
appeared, and  even  the  quotations  from  the  Script- 
ures had  become  extinct.  The  very  name  and 
memory  were  lost.  A  striking  conception  it  was, 
and  leading  to  some  startling  conclusions. 

In  fancy  let  us  picture  a  like  lament  over  the 
passing  of  the  church.  Every  cathedral,  church, 
chapel  and  cloister  in  this  great  land  of  ours  razed 
level  with  the  ground;  30,000  pulpits  from  Maine  to 
Mexico  hushed;  the  voice  of  the  preacher  no  longer 
heard  in  the  land;  the  words  of  Jesus  forgotten;  no 


COMMUNION  OF  PUBLIC  WORSHIP.     123 

longer  a  handful  of  men  to  lift  up  a  little  wooden 
cross  between  heaven  and  earth;  no  more  any  refuge 
for  the  weary  and  heavy-laden,  the  man  bankrupt  in 
hope,  the  woman  bankrupt  in  love;  no  longer  any 
listening  to  what  the  unchangeable  God  has  to  say 
concerning  sin  and  pain  and  want  and  woe  and  pardon 
and  peace.     The  world  has  lost  its  faith. 

Tennyson  has  drawn  for  us  this  picture  in  its 
startling  outline.  They  are  husband  and  wife.  At 
length  they  make  up  their  minds  to  drown  them- 
selves, and  you  fancy  you  see  them  wading  into  the 
water  as  he  says: 

"  Lightly  step  over  the  sands !  The  waters — you  hear  them  call ! 
Life  with  its  anguish,  and  horrors,  and  errors — away  with  it  all !' 
And  she  laid  her  hand  in  my  own — she  was  always  loyal  and 

sweet — 
Till  the  points  of  the  foam  in  the  dusk  came  playing  about  our 

feet. 
There  was  a  strong  sea-current  would  sweep  us  out  to  the 

main. 
Ah,  God,  though    I  felt  as  I  spoke,  I  was  taking  the  name  in 

vain — 
Ah,  God,  and    we    turned  to  each  other,  we  kissed,  we  em- 
braced, she  and  I, 
Knowing  the  love  we  were  used  to  believe  everlasting,  would 

die: 
"We  had  read  their  know-nothing  books,  and  we  lean'd  to  the 

darker  side — 
Ah,  God,  should  we  find  Him,  perhaps,  perhaps,  if  we  died,  if 

we  died ! 
"We  never  had  found  Him  on  earth,  this  earth  is  a  fatherless  hell — 
Dear  love,  forever  and  ever,  for  ever  and  ever  farewell ! 
Never  a  cry  so  desolate,  not  since  the  world  began, 
Never  a  kiss  so  sad,  no,  not  since  the  coming  of  man." 

The  church  has  now  entered  upon  a  struggle  for 
life.     The  coming  revival  is  to  be  one  of  righteous- 


t^4  HEAVENLY  HARMONIES. 

ness.  Every  consideration  to-day  that  makes  for 
the  permanence  of  our  institutions  asks  for  the  pros- 
perity and  welfare  of  the  church,  and  the  refusal  of 
men  to  come  out  boldly  and  lend  it  their  support — to 
say  the  least — is  ungenerous,  and  savors  of  selfish- 
ness "The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  the 
Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all."  That  is  Christian 
socialism.  No  man  can  genuinely  love  his  brother 
man  imtil  they  have  clasped  hands  and  hearts  around 
the  Father's  hearthstone.  Europe  is  a  standing  wit- 
ness to  that  fact  to-day;  where  the  sanctuary  of 
prayer  is  empty,  there  class  hatred  is  found  ferment- 
ing. 

Once  it  was  my  fortune  to  sail  up  New  York  harbor 
on  a  peaceful  Sabbath  morning.  Far  away  the  bells 
were  tolling,  and  hard  by  old  Trinity,  with  its  slender 
spire  shooting  above  the  smoke,  was  calling  the 
people  to  forget  the  noise  and  din  and  clatter  of  the 
counter  and  come  apart  into  a  quiet  place  to  rest 
awhile.  New  York  was  summoning  her  tired  chil- 
dren to  the  feet  of  that  Father  in  whom  we  live  and 
move  and  have  our  being.  The  great  metropolis  was 
calling  her  weary  ones  to  worship,  her  erring  ones  to 
pardon,  her  fainting  ones  to  rest  and  peace. 


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